The Vault
by NicoPony
Summary: When Jean and Gambit are imprisoned in a labor camp, the X Men have to find out who is behind this nefarious scheme. Has the government gone too far in mutant control, or is something more sinister afoot? Killer robots, killer plantlife, plus Marauders!
1. Prologue

Title: The Vault

Author: NicoPony

Mail: X-Men: Evolution

Rating: T

Pairing: none!

Spoilers: See X-Men: Evolution Seasons 1-4

Warnings: Some language, nudity...but you'll have to picture that on your own.

Summary: When Jean and Gambit are unjustly imprisoned in a labor camp, the X-Men have to find out who has hatched this nefarious scheme. Has the government gone too far in mutant control?

Notes: Inspired by the famous psychological experiment: The Stanford Prison Experiment. This story features Gambit and Jean Grey predominantly, but also includes almost all of the characters from X-Men: Evolution and then some! With the exception of the prologue and epilogue, each chapter has a song title, so think of it as a soundtrack for the story.

Prologue

"_We're going to take away their individuality in various ways. In general what all this leads to is a sense of powerlessness. That is, in this situation we'll have all the power and they'll have none._"

— The Stanford Prison Study, attributed to Philip G. Zimbardo

Todd Tolansky figured he was having a bad dream, and not the good kind he liked that featured a certain raven-haired girl of a witchy persuasion. Nope, this was a full-blown nightmare. He seemed to be suspended in some sort of gooey-green liquid, which for someone who called himself The Toad, wasn't all that unusual. The unusual part was that he was trapped in a large glass cylinder, the kind you saw in the live-action special-effects disasters they showed on the SciFi Channel. Todd breathed stale oxygen through a respirator. He blinked sleepily, his vision blurred by the gooey-green stuff. Just beyond the glass cylinder was the bad guy. Todd knew he was the bad guy, because amidst the absolute weirdness of the surrounding chamber, the man stood out like a fly in a bowl of Cream of Wheat (coincidentally, The Toad's favorite breakfast).

The man was tall and angular, with pallid skin and an expression of cold detachment on his face. His hair was black, as was his neatly trimmed beard. The part in his hair might have been drawn with a ruler, it was so straight. He wore a white lab coat, which perhaps was the most disconcerting. In the world of science fiction, goatees and lab coats were sure signs of evilness.

"Man, this'll teach me not to eat grasshopper Gut Bombs before bed," Todd said blearily.

"You awaken," the man said, looking up from the device he held in his long, spider-like hands. The sound was muffled and echoed weirdly through the liquid.

"Yup, you're definitely evil...nobody normal talks like that." Todd languidly waved his arms, watching the goo swirl and eddy around him.

The man stared at Todd, nonplussed. The expression quickly faded into stoicism. "I have to say, Mister Tolansky, you've turned out to be quite the disappointment."

"Well, if Principal Kelly hadn't expelled me, I'd probably have brought up my shop class grade...at least by the end of the semester...to a C-minus, I swear."

"My disappointment has nothing to do with your academic failures, _Toad_," the man replied, turning Todd's codename into an insult. "But your failure as an _Homo sapiens superior_."

"Hey, what'd you call me!?"

"A mutant, Mister Tolansky. The next stage in human evolution. However, in your case, it appears that evolution is working backwards."

The evil doctor turned away then, leaving Todd to struggle with a good comeback. He was never very good at witty repartee, even when he was in full control of his senses.

"I am dissatisfied with your performance as well, Destiny," the tall man continued. Todd paddled up to press his face against the glass for a better view. The goo-filled tube appeared to be in some sort of dripping cavern. The high-tech gadgetry was incongruous with the strangely organic surroundings. The man was addressing a seated woman, also dressed in a lab coat. She wore dark glasses and held a white cane at her side.

"I only see possibilities, Doctor Milbury," the woman replied. "Possibilities which change along with the choices that are made. It is unfair of you to judge Todd so harshly."

"Mister Tolansky is clearly unfit...a genetic dead end. I would be doing the mutant race a favor by destroying him now."

The woman Doctor Milbury addressed as Destiny stood abruptly. "I won't allow you to do that!"

"My dear, you act as if you have any say in this experiment...an experiment twenty-some years in the making!"

"You told me when I first started working for you that we would only be observing mutant children, not experimenting on them!"

Todd did not like where this conversation was heading. His subconscious had cooked up this nightmare; he was seriously considering a visit to the guidance counselor in the morning. He put his fingers to his head and started massaging his temples. His eyes squeezed tight. "Wanda in a bikini...Wanda in a bikini..." It was a mantra that usually worked in the past.

"Do not seek to defy me, Destiny," the man said coldly. "You'll find the consequences for failure are quite...extreme."


	2. I Predict a Riot

Chapter 1: I Predict a Riot

I Predict A Riot, Kaiser Chiefs

_Watching the people get lairy_

_Is not very pretty I tell thee_

_Walking through town is quite scary_

_And not very sensible either_

_I predict a riot, I predict a riot _

Remy LeBeau was staring down into the open backpack of the student seated in front of him. The student, only a year or two younger than Remy himself, was gazing blankly into space while toying with an infected lip-ring. He was seated in a lecture hall along with a class of sixty or so other students. The rows of seats slanted downward, facing a center podium where the tweedy Psychology 101 professor continued his diatribe.

Not for the first time this week, Remy wondered what he was doing here. Never in a million years did he imagine himself a college student, let alone a college student attending the affluent private university in the small city of Bayville. Charles Xavier, headmaster of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, had made it clear that if Remy wanted to stay at the Institute he would be expected to pursue a course in higher education. Apparently, a barely earned G.E.D. wasn't going to cut it.

If it weren't for Charles Xavier's interference and his personal friendship with the Dean of Admissions, Remy wouldn't have set foot in any classroom. Remy realized he'd been taken on as a charity case. Xavier had managed to smooth a path to the Dean, a Doctor Sean Cassidy. Xavier had explained to Dean Cassidy that Remy's lack of formal education was due to an impoverished upbringing, bad parenting, and blah blah blah. From there, Remy had inadvertently managed to charm Dean Cassidy during the admissions interview. He was rather horrified to receive an acceptance letter a few days later. He was even more horrified to see the cost of tuition, which Xavier had so graciously paid for without even flinching.

Remy had no idea college would cost so much. If it weren't for Xavier, he could've easily been in debt for the rest of his life. He didn't understand why all these students weren't shaking for fear in their little designer sneakers. He also didn't know why Xavier was taking such a big gamble on Remy's future. Nor did he understand why a student would so carelessly leave her backpack open even though it contained nearly five-hundred dollars worth of books. Remy had the same Art History book, and he knew that book alone had cost two-hundred dollars. He'd managed to wrangle used copies of all the books, and the price-tag had still made him gag.

The bookstore took back books the during the first weeks of classes, no receipt, no questions asked. They refunded students in cash. Remy wriggled his toes to tap his flip-flop against his heel. His fingers unconsciously gripped the edges of his desk, as if to resist the urge to steal.

That was when Remy noticed a pencil trundling down the aisle toward him. It stopped a few inches from his foot, then began to spin. It rose up a few inches from the floor and poked him in the foot, then inverted itself and wrote on the floor tiles: PAY ATTENTION!

Remy looked up from the message to where Jean Grey was seated a few chairs away. She was studiously taking notes as the professor explained the syllabus. This class meant something to her, at least. She'd decided to pursue a degree in child psychology. Remy's own student status read UNDECLARED, which in his opinion, was an excellent summation of his life so far. Jean, on the other hand, seemed to know what she was doing. Poised and intelligent, she excelled both academically and socially. She had been accepted into Bayville University's accelerated honors program and was a pledge in the school's most popular sorority. Remy would have found her intolerable if she weren't so damn nice. The fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous didn't hurt either.

She spared him a quick glance and he favored her with a big insincere smile. Jean rolled her eyes before turning back to her notes. Remy must have missed some unheard signal, because the students around him began to gather up their belongings in a shuffle that drowned out the remainder of the professor's lecture. With some remorse, Remy watched as the girl in front of him zipped up her backpack, hefted it over her shoulder and left the classroom. He slumped in his seat with a sigh.

"Ready to go?" Jean asked, then cocked her head to beckon him along.

"Is the semester over yet?" Remy asked, sliding out of his seat and shoving his book and notepad into his pin-covered bookbag.

Jean raised and lowered her shoulders with a put-upon sigh. "C'mon, let's go to the library and download those articles for class."

"There's a library?"

Jean shook her head and walked up the aisle to the exit. Remy trotted after her. "I've got a better idea," he said. "I saw one of those pretentious coffee shops on the edge of campus. How about we go there for a _caf__é__ au lait_ and you share your notes with me?" He snagged her notebook from her arms before she could protest.

"How about you pay attention in class, and take your own notes?" she replied, trying to snatch back her notebook. He held it just out of her reach, and put his other arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against his side.

"C'mon, Jeannie. I could use a little help here. Be my study-buddy, enh?" This time his smile was charming and persuasive.

Jean tossed her red locks over her shoulder. "Rogue warned me about you, so don't try any of that smooth-talk with me." She didn't protest his arm around her shoulders, however. "Maybe you're right, we deserve a coffee break after that two-hour lecture."

"And then you can introduce me to some of your hot sorority sisters," Remy added.

This time, Jean shrugged out from under Remy's arm. "Ha, don't push it, buster," she said with a laugh. She waved a finger under his nose in admonishment. "Do you flirt with every girl you meet?"

"Jus' the most beautiful ones," he said, lowering his mirrored sunglasses and winking at her.

Jean held her arms out to her sides and looked skyward, as if to say: "What am I going to do with you?"

Remy perused Jean's meticulous notes. "Hey, these are pretty good. Maybe we _should_ go to the library so I can photocopy them."

This time Jean managed to grab her notes and yank them from Remy's grip. She then slapped him on top of the head with the notebook. "You can copy them out longhand," she replied. "Honestly, didn't you find the lecture interesting at all?"

Remy rubbed the top of his head idly, his expression blank.

"It was all about the ethics of psychological experimentation," Jean continued. "Zimbardo's Stanford Prison Experiment...Is any of this ringing a bell with you?"

"If someone wanted to experiment on my father while he's in prison, they can go right ahead," Remy replied. "'Specially if it involves sharp, pointy things."

The two continued their walk across the green lawns of Bayville U's campus. "The experiment didn't take place in an actual prison, Remy. It was a simulation...to see how people react in a prison environment, the psychological response to authority and imprisonment. Of course, such an experiment couldn't be done today, as it's ethically unsound to---." She slapped Remy again with her notebook, since he was pretending to sleepwalk, his head thrown back, mouth open and snoring.

"You're incorrigible!"

"Need coffee..." he intoned.

"Fine! Let's cut across the quad, it'll be faster," Jean said. But as they rounded the corner of one of B.U.'s ivy-covered brick buildings, they were brought up short by the sight of an amassing crowd.

"Hm, what's goin' on?" Remy asked. "That crazy preacher ranting about the end of the world again?"

"No...It's not him," Jean said. Reverend Stryker had been led off campus in handcuffs the week prior, after admonishing anyone within shouting distance that mutants were the children of Satan, and the school was damned to Hell for allowing mutants on campus. Jean sensed the unrest of the crowd with her telepathic powers. Along the perimeter of the group, several students appeared nervous as they looked around for any authority figures. The center of the crowd was far more rowdy. Several shouts and harsh laughter could be heard. Jean moved forward.

"We're not walkin' into that mess, are we?" Remy asked.

Jean didn't reply, but continued to walk through the crowd. With a telepathic nudge, she made students part before her. Remy reluctantly followed. As students parted, Remy heard catcalls and caught glimpses of sneering faces.

At the center of the quad was the huge boulder that had sat on campus since the school's founding. The Greek frats and student groups often painted the rock in celebration of events at B.U., dubbing it the 'Spirit Rock.' There were several boys holding spray-paint cans crouched in front of the Spirit Rock. The day before, the rock had been painted in the red and gold school colors in celebration of the upcoming Homecoming game. Today it was painted black with a big red circle in the middle. The circle had been crossed out with a big black X and it bore the epithet Muties Go Home! in white.

"Is that the best they could come up with?" Remy muttered. Racism was all too familiar, and he found he was mostly numb to it. "Real nice."

The boys finished their work and stood to face Jean, who was advancing toward the rock.

"Take that off," she said coldly to the boys.

The boys clustered closer together as they mustered their resolve. Their expressions were at once defiant and sullen. Apparently, they hadn't expected to be caught vandalizing the Spirit Rock by an actual mutant. Jean Grey was easily recognizable from her appearances on the local and national news and her affiliation with the Xavier Institute.

"You've got your own freak school, why don't you just stay there?" one of the boys said.

"I've earned my right to be here," Jean snapped. "The same as everyone else!"

"Uhm..." Remy said, as the crowd closed in around them. People vied for a better view of the Spirit Rock and Jean Grey.

"You aren't the same!" another boy called, jabbing a finger at Jean. "You're not wanted here! You _people_ aren't wanted anywhere!"

"You get rid of that---!" Jean shouted angrily, pointing her own finger at the rock. "Or _I_ will!"

"Jeannie, jus' forget it," Remy put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "Let's just get out of here," he pressed.

"You heard your freakazoid friend," the bully said. "Beat it!"

"I don't take orders from bigots!" Jean snapped. "And I won't stand here and be insulted by the likes of you! Remember _that_!" Jean's hand flew out, slashing through the air.

With that, the Spirit Rock cracked in two.


	3. Teenagers

Chapter 2: Teenagers

Teenagers, My Chemical Romance

_The boys and girls in a clique_

_The awful names that they stick_

_You're never gonna fit in much, kid_

_But if you're troubled and hurt_

_What you got under your shirt_

_Will make them pay for the things that they did _

"_Hey boy, take a look at me_..." Rogue sang, "_Let me dirty up your mind...I'll strip away your hard veneer, and see what I can find_..." Her fingers played the cords on her electric guitar, echoing the song's tag line. Her voice and instrumentation buzzed out of a nearby amplifier. She backed up from the microphone to concentrate on playing the guitar solo. Nearby, her adoptive brother, Kurt Wagner, pattered out the beat on his guitar set. His head bobbed to the music. They were both in the open garage at The Xavier Institute, taking advantage of the time when most of the vehicles and their owners were elsewhere. Music blared out the open garage door and across the front lawn. Rogue stepped forward again to press her mouth close to the microphone. "_I know you're dying to. You can touch me if you want. I know what's good for you. You can touch me if you want...But you can't stop_."

Rogue lead the song to its end before turning to Kurt. He grinned a toothy grin and tapped a drumstick against the hi-hats with his prehensile tail. "Zhat was better, wasn't it?" he asked.

Rogue nodded begrudgingly. "You're still a little fast coming in off the bridge, but otherwise, not bad," Rogue replied. It was as close to a compliment as Kurt was going to get.

"What we need is a good bass player," Kurt said. "Y'know if you asked Lance to join us..."

"What? And have him avalanche my new amps?" Rogue quipped, as she unplugged her guitar. "You know how he gets if things don't go his way. B'sides, who knows where he's gone? The Brotherhood up and disappeared, like, a week ago."

"Well, we can't very well have a band with only two people," Kurt said. "Not to mention, we still don't have a decent band name."

"Ah'm not having this discussion again, Kurt. We're just doing this for fun," Rogue replied.

"Okay, just listen to my newest suggestion..." he went on as if he hadn't heard her. "I was thinking something with an 'X' in it. You know a band's cool if zhey have an 'X' in zeir name!"

"That really remains to be seen. AnthraX? StyX? They both suck," Rogue said.

"So how about X-Factor?" Kurt announced. "Cool, right?"

Rogue pulled a face. "Horrible! We'd sound like some kind of heavy metal hair band with a name like that!"

"Kitty said it sounded cool..." Kurt said, hurt. "Hey, how 'bout we ask her to play keyboards?"

"Like she's got any time for us now that she's got her new buddy, Danielle," Rogue griped bitterly.

Kurt sighed and shook his head. Rogue was always so contrary. Apparently, Logan agreed. He paused in sweeping the driveway to glare at the teens. "Y'know," he began, "it's bad enough I gotta listen to that racket you're makin', but do I have to listen to your constant bickerin' too?"

"Well, we're done here," Rogue said, winding her power cords up. "Let's move this stuff before anyone comes back." Rogue dreaded anyone listening in on her practices. Logan was okay, since he didn't say anything other than to complain about the noise. Anyone else might make a big deal out of it. Rogue dreaded her peers' cheerful enthusiasm and encouragement even more than their criticism.

Logan leaned up against the push-broom and sniffed the air. "Hm, I think yer runnin' a bit behind today. Jean and the Cajun are on their way up the drive...at least I think so. Somethin' about them smells funny."

Rogue and Kurt didn't have a chance to ask Logan about his cryptic comment. Jean's Jeep Patriot roared up the driveway and came to a halt before them with a squeak of tires on pavement. The driver's side door flew open and Jean jumped out of the vehicle. The door handle on the passenger side jiggled, but the door didn't open. Remy instead climbed out the open window and hopped to the ground. The door had a huge dent in it, and the side of the vehicle had a streak of bright red spray paint from the front end to the taillight.

Logan, Rogue and Kurt stared for a moment at their newly arrived teammates. The pair looked disheveled; Jean's green knit top was torn at the neckline, the knees of her capris had grass stains. Remy's hair stood in stiff spikes on one side, and yellow goo ran down the side of his face and the front of his gray teeshirt. He was also missing a flip-flop. Jean looked especially angry, though Remy's expression was one of studied neutrality.

"What the hell happened?" Logan finally asked. "Are you hurt?"  
"Nothin' a law suit won't fix," Remy said dryly.

"I thought college would be different, but I was wrong!" Jean announced. "I thought I was going to a place where people would be _educated_. But it's the same old jerks as every place else!"

She stomped off, but the effect was lost when she stumbled on an untied shoelace. She gave a wordless cry of frustration, then lifted herself off the ground with her telekinetic powers and flew through the front door of the Institute.

They all winced as the front door banged shut with unnecessary force. "Care to elaborate, LeBeau?" Logan asked.

"Not particularly," he replied with a Gallic shrug. "It's no big deal. Just some random college hazing."

"What'd they do, upend a dumpster over your head?" Rogue asked, she waved a hand in front of her face.

"What, does this mean no 'welcome-home' hug?" he extended his arms to her.

"Not even if you didn't smell like somethin' they fished out of the river," Rogue retorted, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Geez, I can't get no lovin' anywhere," Remy said as he turned to follow after Jean. "Boy, am I ever looking forward to class on Monday...this has all been a real learnin' experience."

* * *

The song Rogue sings is _Queer_, by Garbage. 


	4. What Do You Want Me To Say?

Chapter 3: What Do You Want Me To Say?

What Do You Want Me To Say, The Dismemberment Plan

_I lost my membership card to the human race_

_So don't forget the face_

_Because I know that I do belong here_

_Go down the checklist let's see:_

_Feelings are good_

_Dishonesty is bad_

_And keeping it inside is worse still_

_You want a problem, well I guess we got one now_

_I really don't know how_

_There's injuns over every goddamn hill_

_What do you want me to say?_

_What do you want me to do?_

_To let you know that I do mean it_

The door to Remy and Piotr's dorm room was practically rattling in its hinges with the force of sound behind it. Rogue knocked, but she was certain she wouldn't be heard over the sound of the music which was thunderous, angry, and in German. She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. She knew from personal experience, opening doors uninvited was usually a big mistake.

"Oh, geez!" she immediately clapped her hand over her eyes.

"Relax, all ready," Remy told her. "I've got shorts on."

She peeked from between her gloved fingers. Sure enough, Remy was standing in front of his dresser wearing nothing but jockey shorts. He was in the process of yanking on a pair of jeans. She tried not to notice just how he filled out those shorts...or the flat planes of his muscular abdomen...or... She looked away. If Rogue hadn't been wearing so much makeup, he'd have seen her face was beet-red to the roots of her hair.

Piotr was standing in front of the window, chin in hand, staring at the canvas before him. The room reeked of turpentine and oil paint. From the doorway, Rogue could only see the back of Piotr's painting. Judging from the splatters of paint on the canvas drop cloth around him, he was still going through his Jackson Pollock phase.

"Greetings, Rogue," the hugely muscled man said.

"How can y'all even think with this music so loud?" Rogue said, cranking the stereo's volume knob to a lower level.

"If I can't hear myself think, that means no one else can hear my thoughts either, enh?" Remy replied.

Rogue distracted herself from Remy's semi-nude appearance by looking at Piotr's painting. She was wrong; he'd gone from Pollock to Kandinsky. Several colorful geometric figures materialized from a deep blue void. "What do you think?" the Russian asked.

"You've got a good eye for color, Piotr. It's real nice," she replied. She was uncharacteristically genuine in her response. She liked Piotr's paintings, even though Kitty had secretly said they looked like they were painted by a four-year old.

"Just think Petey, some day, your paintings may be worth stealing," Remy said.

"What an honor, Gambit, to have you steal one of my paintings!" Rogue couldn't be certain, but she was pretty sure they were both joking.

"Ah'm supposed to tell you that dinner is in fifteen minutes," Rogue said to Remy, now that he'd pulled on a shirt. His hair was still wet from showering. The dark red shirt he was wearing didn't fit the image she had of him. Until now, she'd never seen him wearing anything with a collar, let alone something from a high-end store at the mall. In fact, the shirt looked like one Scott used to wear, before it had gone missing several weeks ago. "We're eating on the patio, since it's still nice out," she said.

Piotr pulled his apron over his head and hung it on a peg on the wall. "I'll be down as soon as I wash," he said, showing them his paint splotched hands. He left for the washroom.

Rogue and Remy stared at one another for a moment. He was wearing an insufferable smirk on his face, despite the growing bruise over his left eye and the scratch across the bridge of his nose.

"So, are y'okay?" she pointed to her own forehead, to indicate the cut along Remy's hairline. It was held together with a butterfly bandage.

He ruffled his hair so his bangs fell over the cut, hiding it from view. "Me? I'm fine. Jeannie's plenty mad, though. Remind me not to get on her bad side."

Rogue didn't know what to do with her hands, so she stuffed them in her pockets. "And you're not mad? Jean said it was some racist jerks who jumped y'all."

"Nah, getting mad's a waste of energy," Remy replied, imitating Rogue and hooking his thumbs into his own pockets. "Why bother?"

"What'dya mean, 'why bother'?"

He shrugged. "They're just humans. They're not worth my time."

"So, you think humans are somehow not worth the trouble? Like they don't matter?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up," he replied.

"Don'tcha think that's a dangerous way of thinkin'? Ah mean, here at the Institute we're supposed t'be learnin' about how humans and mutants can co-exist."

"They can exist as long as they stay the hell outta my way."

"Is that how Magneto taught you t'think?" Rogue said icily.

"Basically," he said as he walked toward her. "Look, Rogue, if it ever came down to us versus them, I know what side I'm gonna be on." He walked past her and out into the hall.

"What we're here t'do is make sure it never comes t'that," Rogue said quietly.

"You're wrong. It's inevitable, and we've got every right to fight first and fight back. You won't see me rolling over for any human in the name of peaceful co-existence. Now are you comin' to dinner, or not?"


	5. Young Folks

Chapter 4: Young Folks

Young Folks, Peter Bjorn & John

_If I told you things I did before_

_Told you how I used to be_

_Would you go along with someone like me?_

_If you knew my story word for word_

_had all of my history_

_would you go along with someone like me?_

_I did before and had my share_

_it didn't lead nowhere_

_I would go along with someone like you_

_It doesn't matter what you did_

_who you were hanging with_

_We could stick around and see this night through _

"What'll it be, half-pint?" Logan asked. Kitty hung back from the grill, trying to avoid the smoke wafting in her direction.

"Uhm, veggie burger please," she said, holding out her plastic plate.

Logan puffed on a cigar. "Your funeral," he said, dropping a veggie patty onto her waiting burger bun.

"Ugh," Kitty said, backing away from the grill. "I totally can't stand the sight of meat after Mister Logan took us on that hunting trip."

"Not me," Rahne said, proffering her plate. "I'll take mine extra-rare, please!"

Logan grinned at her. "Comin' right up." The burger squished onto the plate.

"Barf-ola," Kitty shuddered as Rahne bit into her hamburger with relish.

Scott was next in line with his plate. "Someone ought to let the Professor and Mag---Mister Lehnsherr---know the food is ready," he said. "Otherwise, they'll be at it until nightfall."

The group clustered around the grill turned to look at Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, the X-Men's former nemesis otherwise known as Magneto. The two men were engrossed in conversation, each gesticulating expansively. No doubt, the pair were involved in another one of their hypothetical debates.

"It may be easier to simply bring them their plates, and hope they remember to eat," Ororo Munroe said. She took the loaded plates Logan offered to her and glided over to the two men.

Rogue hung back from the group, cradling her plate and debating where to sit. There were several picnic tables set up on the patio and on the lawn. Most of the New Mutants had taken over the lawn, and where seats couldn't be found, many sat in the grass. Scott and his brother Alex, along with Kurt, Angel and Tabitha were up on the patio. The last table held Piotr and Remy, who had yet to get any food and were having a conversation; or rather, Remy was talking and Piotr as staring into space. Rogue was about to find herself a seat in the shade, preferably away from everyone else, when Kitty snagged her by the sleeve.

"C'mon, Rogue, come sit with me and Danielle," Kitty said, her face grew serious. "You and I have to talk."

Oh, great, Rogue thought. This is probably where Kitty asks me to leave the dorm so Danielle can have my space.

Ever since Danielle Moonstar had shown up, Rogue felt more and more like a third wheel. Not that she made any effort towards retaining her friendship with Kitty. She'd just sat back and watched as Danielle and Kitty grew closer, and let herself get shunted to the side. Other than Kurt, Rogue didn't really feel like she had anyone she could count on.

Danielle looked excited when Kitty and Rogue sat down in the shady grass. "So?" Danielle began. "Did you ask her?"

Kitty smiled slyly. "No...not yet."

"What's this about?" Rogue said tiredly, fearing the worst.

"It's about Remy," Kitty hissed conspiratorially. "Did you answer him yet?"

Danielle shot a glance over to where Remy and Piotr were sitting and tittered happily.

Rogue's mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. "Uh..." she finally managed.

"Don't tell me you haven't said 'yes' yet?" Danielle asked.

"You've turned him down flat two times in a row," Kitty said, aghast. "Third times the charm, right?"

Rogue huffed, blowing her white bangs out of her face. "He seems to think _every_ time is the charm," she replied hotly. "And no, we're not going out."

Kitty groaned. "Roooogue! Just go out with him all ready! He is so totally into you! This is your Senior year. Think how much cooler it would be if you were dating a guy in college!"

Danielle nodded in agreement. "C'mon Rogue, I'm still an underclassman. I need to live vicariously through you, or I'm never going to survive my Sophomore year."

"This isn't about the no-touching thing, is it?" Kitty said, her expression sympathetic.

Rogue shook her head. "No, y'don't get it. There's more to it than that. Ah left the Brotherhood, Ah'm not about to go back to hanging around people like that."

"What, you mean like Lance?" Kitty said, her lower lip gutting out angrily. She and Lance, known as the Brotherhood's Avalanche, had recently patched up their relationship.

Rogue made an exasperated sound. "It's not the same!"

"It's exactly the same!" Kitty said. "Lance did some crummy things to me when we first met. He still does crummy things...like vanish on me without so much as a note saying where he's gone..." she added as an afterthought. "But otherwise, we get along fine! And he cares about me, that's what's important."

Rogue continued to look doubtful. "Well, at least Lance doesn't flirt with every woman in sight." She cast a glance at Jean, who still looked angry. People were carefully staying out of her way.

"Oh, I don't think he's serious," Danielle said. "He's just a big tease. He looks at you different."

"I dunno..." Rogue said, the conversation was beginning to wear down on her. She hadn't expected the girls to confront her this way. "Remy and Ah got a fundamental difference of opinion. As in, he's wrong and Ah'm right."

Kitty sighed. "Rogue, no one's ever going to like the same music you like, so get over it!"

"It ain't about music either! It's about ideology. Don't y'all think it's weird to be living under the same roof as Magneto and two of his Acolytes? They completely exposed us, and now everyone knows we're mutants."

"Well, Professor Xavier says---."

"Let's not get into another one of those 'Professor Xavier says' speeches," Rogue said.

"Well, if we can't get along with other mutants who might think differently than we do," Kitty stated, "what chance do we have with regular people?"

Rogue had no response for that.

* * *

Piotr was wearing that blank expression he usually wore when he was contemplating all the wrongs in the world. Long expanses of silence made Remy nervous, so he liked to fill the spaces with lots of idle chatter.

"...Then the guy empties this garbage bin into Jean's Jeep, so I grab the bin and shove it down over his head. He kinda stumbles around a bit, until I kick him over and he rolls into these other two morons..."

"This is all ridiculous," Piotr finally said.

"Well, I thought it was pretty funny, too---."

"No, I meant this," he said, and his hand swept out to encompass the scene before him. About two dozen Institute students were casually lounging in the yard, picking at the remnants of their meals. Laughter and conversation drifted on the soft autumn breeze. Piotr fixed his dark gaze on Magneto in particular. There was standing animosity between the the two. "We sit here having a picnic, when my family remains missing and in probable danger."

"You can't blame them for wanting some down time after that whole Apocalypse fiasco," Remy replied. "And I'm sure Magneto's got a plan."

"I think your trust in him is unwarranted," Piotr said.

"Hey, helped me out of a tight spot. I'm sure he'll do the same for you. As soon as the Scarlet Witch flies back on her broomstick, we'll take the fuzzy elf-guy and find out which dimension your wacky brother jumped off to with your folks."

Piotr leveled his gaze on Remy. "Do you really think they will help?"

"Sure, that's what these people do. They don't wear spandex for nothin'. And that Forge character specializes in dimension-hopping. You'll see, we'll find them. And if your sister is as cute as her photos, we'd best find her...the sooner the better."

Piotr put his arm around Remy's neck and pulled him into a loose headlock. "You keep your hands off my sister!" he said, but he was smiling at least.

"Ow! Okay, uncle...Uncle!"

"Are the two of you killin' each other all ready?"

The two young men looked up to see Rogue standing with her hands on hips. Piotr released his grip on Remy, who straightened and fixed his hair.

"We jest, only," Piotr said.

"Good thing you showed up, I was about to lose my head," Remy whispered to Rogue, as if Piotr couldn't hear.

"We're organizing a ball game over in the field. You comin'?"

Piotr glanced at Remy, who shrugged a shoulder. "Let the weight of the world off your shoulders, Hercules," Remy said.

"I will play," Piotr said finally.

"I'm not much for team sports," Remy told Rogue.

"Whatever," Rogue said, and turned on her heel. Piotr followed after her.

Remy sighed, then jumped off the picnic table and following after Rogue.

"Ah thought you weren't gonna play?" Rogue said, when he caught up to her.

"Nope, I don't play ball. But I make an excellent heckler."


	6. Can You Read My Mind?

Chapter 5: Can You Read My Mind?

Can You Read My Mind? The Killers

_The teenage queen_

_the loaded gun_

_the drop dead dream_

_the chosen one_

_a southern drawl_

_a world unseen_

_a city wall_

_and a trampoline_

_So I don't mind_

_if you don't mind_

_'cause I don't shine_

_if you don't shine_

_before you go_

_tell me what you find_

_when you read my mind_

Remy was laying in bed, wondering what had caused him to wake. The digital clock on the nightstand read 6:20 A.M., which was entirely too early to be awake on a Saturday morning. Or any morning, for that matter. He gingerly touched the bruise on his face, which had morphed into a spectacular black eye. He'd had no intention of fighting any of the university students, but when several of the boys had jumped Jean, he found his options limited. Jean could hold her own in a fight, but Remy wasn't going to stand by while a woman was being assaulted. He wished he'd jumped into the fray a little earlier. In truth, he'd been thinking about Xavier signing that big fat tuition check and that starting a riot was a piss-poor way of paying the man back. Then he'd been hit in the back of the head with someone's lunch. While Remy had been temporarily blinded by Thai peanut sauce, some of the jerks had put in a few solid hits.

From outside, he heard the dual thunk of car doors closing. He sat up, pulled off the covers and moved to the window. He sidled past Piotr's painting supplies, tiptoeing around damp splotches of cerulean blue and cadmium orange. Pulling back the shade, he peered down at the driveway below. The lawn was shrouded in early morning mist and lit by the gray glow of twilight. A dark sedan was parked before the front door. Two men clad in suits had just stepped from the vehicle. They could have been twins; same suits, same nondescript haircuts. Something about the pair immediately set off alarm bells in Remy's head. From this distance it was hard to make out, but he was pretty sure the license plates were white with blue lettering. The string of plate numbers started off with the letters "CSA." He had no idea what that stood for, but from their appearance and the government issued plates, he guessed the two men were federal agents. To a trained thief, law officers were instantly recognizable.

If he wasn't fully awake before, the sudden jolt of adrenaline woke him faster than a plunge into a frozen lake. He turned and vaulted over Piotr's worktable. A jar of turpentine rattled, but Remy settled it with a finger. Piotr did not stir.

Remy gathered his clothes from the day before and quickly yanked on the grass-stained jeans and the pilfered shirt he'd found several days ago when climbing down the laundry chute. Lastly, he seized his long duster from the back of the chair, shoved his feet into a pair of untied Puma sneakers, and ran out the door. By now, the doorbell had rung and people were gathering in the foyer. Questions were being asked.

Remy turned and bolted for the back stairs, which lead down to the kitchen area. He whispered down the staircase while considering his options for escape. He could head down the hall to the garage, or make a break for it through the kitchen. The kitchen's back door led to the patio. Beyond that lay the forest which surrounded the estate. Remy leapt the last five steps and landed in a crouch on the plush carpet. He surged forward and through the swinging kitchen door. He soon found, to his dismay, that he'd made the wrong choice. Some acrobatics and a windmilling of arms prevented him from crashing into Wolverine. Slamming into a bad-tempered feral with an adamantium skeleton was not on his list of things to do today. He danced around Wolverine, but not before the man reached out and clamped a hand around Remy's wrist.

"Where's the fire, kid?" Logan asked.

"No fire. Got to get. Bye, now. Have a nice life," he twisted free of Logan's grip and bolted for the back door. He was brought up short when Logan seized the back of his shirt. Remy had to give the man credit, he was much faster than he looked.

"Now hold yer horses," Remy continued to pull forward, his sneakers squeaking on the floor tiles. "What're you runnin' from?"

"Federal agents, at the front door!" his voice a harsh whisper.

"And what makes you think they're comin' for you?" Logan asked, pulling Remy around so he could look the kid in the face.

Just then, a telepathic summons echoed in the Institute inhabitants' heads. "Jean Grey, Remy LeBeau, please report to my office as soon as possible." The urgency in Xavier's projected thoughts indicated his disquiet.

Remy's eyes widened. "_Lâches-moi,_" he hissed at Wolverine. The honing steel from the knife block seemed to materialize in Remy's hand. Logan had barely registered that Remy had grabbed the weapon before it was charged and held under his nose. "_Maintenant_!"

Logan growled. "Now, don't get carried away, Cajun. We'll have a talk with the Prof, get this all straightened out."

"How would you like to be handed over to the government?" Remy said through gritted teeth.

Logan gave him a long considering look, then released Remy. "Get goin'," he said, gesturing to the back door.

The honing tool disintegrated in a shower of harmlessly charged particles. Remy darted for the exit, just as the kitchen door swung open behind him.

"Halt!" cried an authoritative voice. "Stay where you are!"

Remy heard Logan's sound of protest just as he reached the doorknob. He had no intention of obeying the voice. He yanked back on the knob, but the dead-bolt had been thrown. He cursed and pounded the lock with his palm. The lock exploded from the door as if fired from a gun. He had yanked the door open but a big hand slapped down onto the door, slamming it firmly shut. Another hand grabbed Remy's wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. He was propelled forward onto the kitchen table and slammed against the wooden top.

"Denti?" called a tinny voice from a communicator somewhere over Remy's right shoulder. "Denti? Any problems?"

"No," growled the man holding Remy to the tabletop. "You were right, LeBeau tried to do a runner."

Remy felt handcuffs close around his wrists. As the cuffs snicked shut, he suddenly felt a powerful sensation of vertigo which was not helped when Denti yanked him upright.

Wolverine looked irate. "Where do you get off!" he snarled. "Comin' in here and roughing up our students!?"

"I suggest, Mister Logan, that you step aside. Unless you would like to be charged with interfering with an arrest," said the agent with forced calm. Remy was now stumbling like a drunk, and Denti was doing everything in his power just to keep the kid upright. Denti hauled Remy through the kitchen door and down the hallway. At the end of the hall, a dark figure was silhouetted against the bright morning light coming through the foyer windows.

Remy recognized the figure and was flooded with relief. Magneto will help me, Remy thought. But as the federal agent approached, Magneto stepped to the side, allowing the agent to pass. Magneto was gritting his teeth, his eyes were practically sparking with anger.

"Is that necessary?" he growled at the agent.

"And just who are you?" Agent Denti asked.

Magneto didn't reply, save to glower at the agent.

Remy staggered and rebounded off the door jamb leading to Xavier's office. Denti did nothing to prevent it. Remy reeled and thought he was going to hit the floor, but was instead forced into a chair. He felt a moment of embarrassment when he realized everyone living at the Institute had been standing out in the foyer.

Magneto strode into Xavier's office, Logan hot on his heels. With a gesture, Magneto caused the door to fly shut, just before Logan could cross the threshold.

"Hey! What the---!" came a muffled protest, before it was met with the calmer cadence of Ororo's voice. The pair argued just outside the door while the students began to talk excitedly and call out questions.

"Remy, are you all right?"

Remy looked up at Xavier and tried to focus. His equilibrium was completely off.

"What did you do to him?" Xavier asked, angrily.

The other agent in the room considered Remy for a moment before answering. "I suppose different mutants react differently to the inhibitors." He spoke as if musing to himself.

"Wha-what?" asked a distracted voice. Remy hadn't realized until now that Jean was sitting in an adjacent chair. She was paler than usual, her freckles stood out darkly on her white skin. She looked shell-shocked. Like Remy, she too was handcuffed. Unlike Remy, she'd been cuffed so her hands were before her, instead of behind her back. They were actually less like handcuffs and more like manacles.

There was an ear-popping buzz in the air, and pens and paper clips rattled on Xavier's desk. Xavier slapped a hand over a spinning pen and shot a glance at Magneto. Something passed between the two men, and the buzz immediately stopped.

The two agents shared a look of their own.

"What exactly are the charges against my students?" Xavier asked at last.

"Under the revisions of the USAPATRIOT Act, we're under no obligation to tell you," replied one of the agents.

"That's ridiculous!" Magneto snapped. "These are students, not terrorists!"

"We handle the affairs of the Commission on Superhuman Activities," said the agent identified as Denti. "Any unlawful superhuman activity will be put under review by the Commission. You can place a complaint with them." Denti beckoned his partner, and the other man pulled Jean to her feet.

"You're not just going to let them take us, are you?" Remy asked incredulously.

"Go quietly, don't do anything that would give them reason to punish you further," Xavier said, but telepathically he added: "Gambit, there is more at stake here than you realize." Remy's nose wrinkled, discomfited with at the mental exchange.

"But, Professor..." Jean besought, and Remy realized he could hear her voice in his head as well. Xavier must have them all telepathically linked. He didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. "Where are they taking us?"

"I haven't discerned that yet, Jean," the Professor replied.

"Just erase their brains!" Remy thought at Xavier. "Make them forget why they're here."

"Agents Denti and Duncan are only acting on orders. There are far more powerful people here pulling the strings. Please, be patient."

Remy looked at Magneto, who said nothing.

"Let's go," said Denti, grabbing Remy by the back of his shirt. The room seemed to spin wildly. Something bad had happened when he lost his powers. He was without his speedy reflexes, but the balance maintained by his inner-ear continued to overcompensate for a power that was no longer there. He could literally feel the downward linear pull of gravity. He had to concentrate on not being sick.

Agents Denti and Duncan escorted the captive pair from Xavier's office. Jean wore a brave, but stubborn face. It had the effect of making her look less than fearsome, and even more adorable.

Scott gasped when he realized Jean had been handcuffed. "Jean...what? Professor!" He began to move toward the agents, but Magneto brought him up short. Scott looked angrily from Magneto to the federal agents. The agents eyed the other students gathered in the foyer. They all looked tensed for a fight.

"Don't think we don't know what kind of school you're running here," Agent Duncan said to no one in particular. "We're under direct orders to take any of you who put up a resistance. If one of you steps a toe out of line, we'll be back."

The hostility in the air was palpable. The agents moved wordlessly forward, the two handcuffed students walking before them. Remy managed an accusatory glance over his shoulder at Magneto, but the man's expression remained resolute.

"Be brave," Xavier said into their minds. "We'll put an end to this. We will find you."

This reassurance did nothing to assuage Remy's feelings of betrayal.

* * *

Thanks to the people who reviewed, Abbs, Evil Lobster, You're a Fish, Furygrrl, Kelly and Descena! And all the nice people who favorited my story. I hope you like the new installments. 


	7. I'll Believe in Anything

Chapter 6: I'll Believe In Anything

I'll Believe in Anything, Wolf Parade

_I'd take you where nobody knows you_

_And nobody gives a damn_

_I said nobody knows you_

_and nobody gives a damn_

_I said nobody knows you_

_and nobody gives a damn either way_

_About your blood_

_your bones_

_your voice_

_and ghost_

_because nobody knows you_

_and nobody gives a damn either way_

Jean and Remy were seated in the back of the federal agents' vehicle. The time passed in silence. To Jean, the quiet was intolerable. She hadn't realized the strange sensation of loneliness and isolation that would come from losing her mutant powers. Perhaps most obvious was the sudden vacancy left by Scott's sudden disappearance from her mind. She knew they shared a special bond, but she didn't know how strong their link was until it was gone.

She looked down at her manacled wrists. The cuffs appeared to have some sort of plastic casing. The plastic panels were held in place by small screws. There was a display on the right manacle, which showed a line of bars that ran from green to yellow to red. The bars were fully lit. The topmost red bar was blinking on and off, like a cursor prompt.

Jean was glad she had hurriedly dressed before Agent Duncan had shown up at her bedroom door. The agents hadn't seen fit to wait in Xavier's office, but instead they'd began searching the mansion. She had been handcuffed in the hall, just outside her room. The other girls in the dorm were just emerging from their bedrooms, dressed in pajamas. Some had stood looking shocked, others darted back into their rooms in embarrassment. Rogue started bawling the agent out.

"What d'ya think you're doing!" she had shouted.

The agent then told her, "If you don't want to join your friend, then you should keep your mouth shut, kid."

"Aren't you supposed to read me my Miranda rights?" Jean asked.

"Terrorists don't have rights," the agent had replied.

She understood that Xavier couldn't force the two men to release her without bringing more trouble to the Institute. That didn't stop her from feeling that she'd been given up too easily. She wished Xavier had given Remy and herself a chance to escape, or had hidden their whereabouts from the agents. Instead, she'd been exchanged for information. They needed to find out more about the people the two agents worked for. She had no idea where they were going, but hopefully, she could call her parents from the prison. She would feel better if she could just talk to someone, anyone.

She looked over at Remy, who had his head pressed against the door window with his eyes closed. "Are you feeling any better yet?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"My head..." he groaned, and slouched down into the seat.

One of the agents glanced over his shoulder at them.

"Where are we going?" she asked the agent.

"The airport," he answered, then stared forward. They were pulling off the main road.

Jean's heart was pounding. "And then where?"

The agent didn't answer.

The car continued down a little used rural route. They passed a few quonset huts and a communications tower. A pair of orange windsocks blew in the autumn breeze. The small airport was surrounded by a high chain-link fence. There was a two-engine cargo plane on the runway. It was the only plane in sight. The car pulled onto the access road leading to the airstrip and drove across the tarmac towards the plane.

There was a tense pause when the driver cut the ignition. The two agents looked at one another, as if rallying themselves to action. Then Duncan gave a small nod, and the two stepped from the vehicle. Jean and Remy were left in the backseat. Remy looked around. Seeing that the agents were gone, he began to struggle with his cuffs.

"Remy, don't..." Jean hissed.

He wriggled in his seat and bent forward. When he righted, his hands were before him, instead of behind his back. He looked at the manacles myopically, as if he couldn't see straight. A dark suited figure appeared in the passenger-side window. The agents had returned. They opened the rear doors. Jean got out of the car without being asked, but Remy was unceremoniously dragged from his seat. Jean caught a view of the cavernous hold of the cargo plane right before a black bag came down over her head. She gasped in surprise and fear. A hand pushed her from behind, ushering her forward. Uncertainly, she began to move. To her left, she could hear Remy scuffling across the pavement. He was either still suffering from vertigo, or was putting up a struggle. She was lead blindly into the plane and forced to lay on her stomach. The agents re-cuffed her with her arms behind her back.

"You can't do this!" she cried, and was embarrassed to hear her voice crack. "We've got rights! You can't abduct us!"

"Quiet!" one of the guards barked. She felt something hard press between her shoulder blades. It felt like the barrel of a gun.

Jean bit back her protests. Her ankles were then bound together. Remy was forced down to the floor beside her. There was a prolonged mechanical whir; the cargo door was closing. She felt the thrum of the plane engines through the floor. Jean began to shake in fear. She was spared any further humiliation. With the bag over her head, no one could see her cry.

* * *

It had been hours since the plane had left Bayville. Jean lost track of time. At one point, she could see tiny pinpricks of light through the fabric of the black bag. Now there was nothing. She allowed the thrumming of the engines to numb her mind and body. It was preferable to the pressure in her bladder, the gnawing hunger in her stomach, and the dry, parched feeling in her throat. Remy had been still the entire time. She could just make out his breathing, which told her he was awake. Their shoulders touched as they lay beside one another. She took some comfort in his presence. If she had been alone...well, she didn't know what she would have done.

The longer they traveled, the less likely it became that Professor Xavier would be able to find them. His telepathic powers only extended so far, even though his abilities had been bolstered by Apocalypse's manipulations(1). Cerebro would only be able to detect their mutant signatures if they used their powers. With the inhibitors they wore, there seemed to be little chance of that happening. The situation seemed hopeless.

"_Comment ça va, _Jeannie?" Remy asked hoarsely.

"_Ç__a va,_" Jean replied. "_Et tu_?"

"This is almost as bad as flying coach," Remy said. "All that's missing are the crying babies."

Jean's eyebrows came together. He was joking now? He must be feeling better.

The cadence of the engines changed slightly. Jean felt the swooping sensation in her stomach that indicated their decent.

"Jeannie," Remy began, "whatever happens, don't let them get in your head."

"There's little chance of that happening," Jean said dryly.

"I mean it, Jeannie," his voice was somber. "Put up a wall. What happens only happens on the outside. Not the inside, _comprends_?"

"No, I don't understand. What do you think is going to happen?" The intonation of his voice sounded more ominous when she couldn't see his expression.

"Keep quiet, you two," called one of the agents.

The plane continued its decent. Jean felt as though she was going to slide across the floor, so she braced herself with the toes of her tennis shoes. The engines roared and the plane touched down. They had arrived. While the plane taxied to a halt, the agents came forward and cut the zip strips binding her ankles. With one of the agent's hands gripping her forearm, she stood. Her entire body felt like one big bruise. She was pointed to the opening cargo door and started down the ramp. She was loose limbed and clumsy. Her feet reached pavement, and she was brought to a halt.

The bag over her head was removed, along with several strands of hair. Wherever they were, it was nighttime. The landing strip and surrounding area was lit with the acidic wash of sodium vapor lights. She immediately noticed the cloying dampness in the air, which abetted with the occasional breeze. The edge of the compound was fringed with lush vegetation and palm trees. Piles of earth dotted the landscape, along with poles of steel rebar, cement block, and bags of powdered concrete. It looked like a construction site, without the construction vehicles.

Both she and Remy quickly assessed their surroundings before looking at each other. He was wearing a poker face that gave nothing away. If anything, he looked bored with the situation. Jean tried to school her expression into something similar. A figure was fast approaching from one of the out-buildings. His shadow flickered across the pavement as he passed the lights. Jean realized with sinking dread that she recognized the man. He came to a halt and stood before the two young adults, hands behind his back and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"I hadn't been expecting to see one of Xavier's so soon," he said to Jean. "And we've hardly begun here. I'd hoped we would be a little further along in the project before the X-Men got involved."

"What makes you think this project will be any more successful than any of your others, Trask?" Jean asked coldly, with more bravery than she actually felt. Bolivar Trask was head of the Sentinel Project, which had destroyed the X-Men's anonymity(2). Trask was later revealed to have created the monstrous mutant hunting robot, and had done a brief stint in jail. That changed when Apocalypse had ascended. The Sentinel Project was reinstated and apparently going strong, if Trask's smugness was any indication.

"We've been given certain liberties. The project is moving forward faster than we predicted. A miracle by governmental bureaucracy standards," Trask gloated.

"The government is behind this?" Jean asked hotly. "Warrant-less searches? Kidnapping? Coercion?"

"As I said, we have certain liberties. You can regard me as your judge and jury," Trask replied. He gestured to something behind Jean. Both she and Remy turned. Two armored figures were descending the cargo ramp. They were both larger than average humans and carried long metal staffs in their hands. Their faces were hidden behind dark cowls.

Trask continued: "And if you step out of line...you'll meet your Executioners."

* * *

(1): Ascension, Part II, Xavier was made into one of Apocalypse's horsemen. 

(2): Day of Reckoning, Part II, Magneto sets up a brawl between the Acolytes, X-Men and the Brotherhood, triggering the activation of Trask's Sentinel.Author's Note: Agent Duncan is not related in any way to Duncan Matthews, Jean's ex-boyfriend. It's Fred Duncan of 616 X-Men fame. Also, yah, I know Denti is supposed to be the X-Cutioner. But does that make any sense? No.

* * *

Jean and Remy were separated. Remy was escorted toward one set of low out-buildings, Jean to another. She was flanked on either side by two women dressed in black uniforms. Their clothing looked somewhat like military uniforms: double-breasted jackets with black leather belts, form fitting gray pants with tall boots. A long metal nightstick hung from the belt, along with a taser. The bigger woman also carried a Bowie knife. There was an embroidered badge on the right shoulder of the uniform. The badge displayed The Department of Defense shield flanked on either side by the standing figures of Sentinels. A large G was superimposed over the shield and the words Commission on Superhuman Activities were stitched along the edge.

One of the women was positively enormous. Her uniform stretched over a large chest and broad muscular shoulders. Her hair was black and close-cropped, which accentuated the masculinity of her facial features. She walked with her weight in her upper body, similar to how a man would walk. If it weren't for her large breasts, Jean would have questioned the woman's sex. The other woman was lithe and tall. She moved with the sinuousness of a snake. Jean found her more repellent than her heavy-set partner. She could have been beautiful with her full lips with high cheekbones, but her green and white hair gave her a somewhat sickly appearance. Jean wondered why the woman would have dyed her hair that particular shade of mucus green.

They reached one of the low concrete buildings where the heavy-set woman swiped a security card through a reader. A yellow light blinked over the big steel door, which emitted a buzz and clanked open. The puss-haired woman gave Jean a light shove. Jaw set, Jean entered the building. The interior was strictly utilitarian, with concrete block walls and fluorescent lighting. Jean was escorted to another door, which was also metal but set with a square mesh-enforced window. Puss Hair lifted a lever and opened the door, while the big woman unlatched the two manacles binding Jean's wrists to one another. The manacles remained around her wrists, but they were no longer pinned behind her back. Jean was forced to enter the room. She walked to the center of the small room and turned around. The two women remained at the entryway. The room was empty save for a chair.

"Strip!" the big woman commanded.

Jean stared at her for a moment, her mind refusing to comprehend what her ears had heard. "I don't---I---," Jean stuttered.

"You can keep yer skivvies," the woman sneered. "Do it, or I'll do it for you."

Jean hesitated, and the big woman moved forward menacingly. Jean put up her shaking hands. "Okay, okay!" Jean said. She unzipped her turquoise hoodie, folded it and set it on the chair. She toed off her sneakers and stepped out of her track shorts. She stood in front of the two women in nothing but a camisole and panties. Jean crossed her arms over herself and shivered. Apparently satisfied, the big woman came forward and gathered up Jean's clothing. Then the two guards left the room. The door closed behind them with a final sounding clank.

What now? Jean wondered as she looked around the room. The walls and floor were damp, paint bubbled up in areas. There was a standing puddle in the corner of the room, and it appeared that roots were insinuating themselves in the cracks in the bricks. Jean thought that was odd, considering Trask's comments about the project being new. Were these buildings appropriated from some other unknown purpose? She didn't have long to speculate before the two guards returned.

"Have a seat," said the green-haired girl.

Jean reluctantly seated herself in the chair. The bigger woman came around and stood behind the chair and gripped Jean's arms. The green-haired girl approached, a hand-held device in one hand, a sort of strange gun in the other. She applied the gun to Jean's forearm. Jean immediately jerked back, but the brutish woman held her immobile.

"Stop!" Jean cried, but the green-haired woman had depressed the trigger. The gun let out a hiss and Jean felt a sharp pinch. She watched as a small glass cylinder on the gun filled with her blood. Once the container was full, the brutish woman let go of Jean's arms. The big woman took the gun from the green-haired woman, unscrewed the glass cylinder and handed it back. The green-haired woman screwed the container into the device she carried, depressed several buttons and studied the readout on the screen. Eventually, the device emitted a beep.

"Oh, good," the green-haired guard said. "Another drudge." With that, she left the room. Jean had no idea what to make of this.

"A drudge? Well, this won't do then," said the big woman. Before Jean could turn her head, the big woman seized Jean by the hair. In one swift movement, the guard had removed her knife. Jean jerked away and fell forward onto the damp cement. Her head had suddenly been released from the guard's grip. Jean quickly realized why. Her hair had been hacked off. Her remaining locks fell forward, barely long enough to touch her chin. Jean turned on the guard with her eyes full of rage. The guard stood smirking, nearly sixteen inches of red hair clasped in her meaty fist.

Jean stood with her fists clenched at her sides. "You---you _bitch_!" she spat.

The guard just laughed, and let the locks of hair fall onto the floor. The door behind Jean re-opened revealing the green-haired guard. She was carrying a folded garment, a pair of blue slippers, a blanket and a flat pillow. She tossed the garment at Jean, who just managed to catch it before it hit the wet cement.

"Put that on," the guard said. Jean unfolded the garment to reveal a set of gray coveralls. The letter G was stitched onto the right breast. Angrily, Jean yanked on the uniform and shoved her feet into the blue slippers. She was then handed the blanket and pillow and escorted from the room. They passed through two more security points and finally entered a dimly lit corridor. The hall was lined with prison cells. As they continued down the corridor, Jean saw the cells were filled with other girls and women. Their eyes followed Jean as she passed. The trio came to a halt before a cell door.

"Three-fifteen!" the big woman barked. Jean looked around, and saw at the other end of the hall was a window of mirrored glass. Presumably a one-way window, behind which hid another guard. The hall echoed with a prolonged buzz and the cell door slid aside. There were two other girls in the cell. They stared at her guardedly.

Jean was ushered into the cell and the barred door slid shut behind her. Jean turned and watched the two guards depart. One of her new cell mates jumped down from the top bunk of one of two sets of bunk-beds. Jean turned to face the two girls, who were staring at Jean with interest.

"Hullo," said the girl who was still seated on a lower bunk. She was of Asian decent. "You all right, luv?" Jean was surprised to hear the girl had a British accent. She was very petite with dark purple hair.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. All things considered," Jean replied, touching her shorn hair. She hesitatingly walked to one of the empty bunks and set the blanket and pillow on top. The other girl didn't move back as Jean approached. Her skin was covered in short, ice-blue colored fur. She had a cap of indigo blue hair on her head. Precisely cut bangs framed yellow cat eyes. With her pointy ears, she somewhat resembled Jean's teammate, Nightcrawler. The girl even had a long tail, which lashed back and forth.

The feline girl appeared to size Jean up, then stuck out her clawed hand. "Moxie," she announced.

Jean took this pronouncement to be a name. "I'm Jean," she said as she shook the other girl's hand.

"I know who you are," Moxie replied. "You're one of the X-Men."

"Oh!" the other girl stood from her bunk. "You are? I've heard about you! I'm Elizabeth, er, Betsy actually."

"Betsy," Jean took the other girl's proffered hand. "Hi. I guess we'll be bunking together then."

"Wonderin' when we were gonna get a new roomie," said Moxie, as she hopped onto her bunk. "And a drudge, too," she added, flicking the collar of Jean's coveralls.

"What? A drudge, what does that mean?" She noticed the Moxie was also wearing a gray uniform, while Betsy was in orange. The orange was an unfortunate color on the girl; coupled with her purple hair, she looked like a Halloween decoration. "And what happened to your old cellmate?"

Betsy pressed her lips together, making dimples emerge on her cheeks. "You're one of the laborers," she told Jean. "Whatever your mutant power is, it will help with the construction. You're lucky."

Moxie propped her head up on her fist. "Lucky, right," she said, rolling her slitted cat-like eyes. "If you call clearing brush and lugging bags of cement lucky."

"At least you get to use your mutant powers," Betsy replied. "The rest of us are stuck inside on the assembly line." She pulled a face. "Boring stuff."

"Don't listen to her, Jean," Moxie said. "You and I got the short shrift. At least on the line, you won't get eaten."

"Eaten?" Jean exclaimed.

"Yeah," Moxie said. "I guess we've got a few hours to get you up to speed. You might as well get comfortable. We're gonna be here a while."


	8. Matchbook Seeks Maniac

Chapter 7: Matchbook Seeks Maniac

Matchbook Seeks Maniac, Deerhoof

_In a cage the quiet ruby-red bunker_

_Unseen boy who have control of the room_

_Power will need the boy_

_Why does power always seek the boy?_

_Why does power make the crazy boy more...more?_

_I will sell me soul to the devil_

_If I can be on top of the world_

Remy learned early on that good things never lasted. As a child, he'd been shunted from one foster home to another. Nobody wanted a kid with a weird physical abnormality, and red and black eyes were about as weird as they come. Whenever he arrived at a new home, he made sure to take full advantage of any opportunity; whether that be joy riding in a borrowed vehicle or helping himself to a wad of cash from an untended wallet. At age eleven, Jean Luc had provided Remy with the best opportunity yet. The experienced thief was well-acquainted with the underworld and things that went unspoken. He knew about strange people with even stranger powers. Jean Luc was a supremely patient man. He spotted the strange-eyed boy and had his suspicions of Remy's nature. Remy was snatched up from the streets, taken home and schooled as Jean Luc's apprentice. Jean Luc's patience was rewarded when Remy grew into adolescence. While Jean Luc took advantage of Remy's emerging mutant abilities, Remy was studiously learning what he could from Jean Luc. Thieving, duplicity, careful observation, and exploiting your enemies weaknesses were useful things to know. It was a good deal while it lasted.

It was good until the night Remy was caught out by a rival gang who called themselves The Rippers. The Rippers were determined to take away Jean Luc's advantage by killing his adopted son. In self-defense, Remy had used his burgeoning powers on the gang members. The ensuing explosions had caused considerable damage and even the deaths of two Rippers. Being inexperienced with the power he wielded, Remy had inadvertently injured himself. He was arrested at the scene. Because the unexplainable explosions matched the pattern of explosions associated with bank robberies in the area, Remy ended up in prison. Out of misguided loyalty, he'd kept quiet about Jean Luc and the Thieves' Guild. In the circles Remy traveled, snitching was an unimaginable offense.

Remy remained in prison for several miserable months while nursing his resentment for Jean Luc specifically and humanity in general. Then Magneto had shown up, busted him out, altered his criminal record, and provided yet another opportunity for Remy to exploit. Remy got his freedom and was schooled in mastering his powers. He learned he was a mutant, and for the first time he felt the entitlement that came with innate superiority. In jail, his worst suspicions about the nature of humanity were confirmed. Remy was glad to learn he could distance himself from humans, that he was better than them.

He hadn't expected the good thing he'd found at the Xavier Institute to have ended so quickly. He liked living in that great house more than he wanted to admit. It had all the creature comforts he'd never been able to indulge in before. Being surrounded with people his own age who were also mutants like himself was a novel experience. One of those mutants, Rogue, he regarded with particular interest. Then there was Xavier, who had seemingly endless compassion. He'd taken Remy and Piotr in, made peace with Magneto...he'd even tried to reason with Apocalypse. Remy should have known it was all too good to be true. Xavier had better have a damn good reason for turning him over to the agents. If the X-Men thought Remy was going to wait for a rescue, they really were a bunch of fools and dreamers.

Remy had plenty of time to reminisce about his past while on the plane. He never wanted to go back to that life. As he traveled down a long corridor, surrounded by cells and inmates, it seemed his past was inescapable. After he was subjected to an invasive search and dressed in convict orange, he was escorted down a corridor lined with prison cells. The scenery was all too familiar. One of the black-suited guards accompanying Remy gave him a rough shove into a wall. Remy stumbled a bit, partly out of his continuing queasiness. He allowed himself to be manhandled by the guards in a display of feigned weakness. A more confrontational approach wouldn't work on the guards. They were a couple of no-necked meatheads who delighted in what little power they had. Remy wasn't going to give them an excuse to pummel him. He kept his head down, eyes averted from the two guards. All the while, he was carefully examining his new surroundings and assessing possible points of escape.

He was brought to a sudden halt when one of the guards, a bulldog-faced man with a bowlcut, grabbed the back of his uniform. "In here," the meathead growled as the door buzzed open.

"Well, 'ello 'ello!" called a sing-song voice from inside the cell. "Look 'oo it is! It's me ole pal, Gambit! And you've brought yourself a date! 'Ello, Harpseal! 'Ello, Cocksucker!"

Remy was shoved into the cell. He caught himself against one of the bunks.

"The name's Harpoon!" barked one of the meatheads.

The other guard cracked his hairy knuckles. "And if you call me 'Cocksucker' again, Allerdyce, I'm going to re-arrange your face!"

"Oh, right, right. Ex_cuse_ me! I meant Blockbuster, of course!" he waved his hands, as if to ward off attack. The cell door rolled shut with a clang. "Well, don't just stand there, ya stupid asses. Rack off now so me an' Gambit can get ourselves reacquainted."

"Watch your back, Allerdyce," Blockbuster growled. "I've had enough of your lip." With that, the two guards ambled off.

Remy stared at St. John Allerdyce, otherwise known as Pyro, as if he were a mirage.

"Well, lookee you in your cute little suit," Pyro said, standing with his fists on his hips. "And here I'd thought X-Men went in for the whole black unitard look."

"Oh, Christ Almighty," Remy groaned and lay face down on the bare mattress.

"Y'okay, mate? You're lookin' a might peaky."

"John, what are you doin' here?"

"I should ask you the same," St. John quipped. "And here I'd thought you'd given up your life of crime. Ah well, recidivism rates are high, I hear. The ole' American penal system failed again." He shook his head in mock sadness.

"Shut. Up."

"Well who's gonna welcome you, if not me?" St. John continued. He patted his gray coveralls as if searching for something. "I had a travel brochure in here somewhere."

Remy turned his head and fixed an eye on St. John. This entire experience had a surreal quality to it, which Remy suspected was the effects of vertigo.

"Nevermind then! Allow me to welcome you to beautiful Krakoa Island, home of the Genosha Project!" He made an expansive gesture and gave a little bow. "Come for the forced manual labor, stay for the blatant prisoner abuse!"

Remy pushed himself into sitting position. "Genosha Project? What's that about?"

"Why, it's a veritable mutant utopia! Where otherwise antisocial freaks like you and I can learn to live in a productive environment and put our powers towards the good of mankind."

"You're kidding," Remy deadpanned.

"It was all in the brochure..." St. John began, casting about for the imagined brochure.

Remy put his hand over his face. This was going to be a long night.


	9. Because America Can

Chapter 8: Because America Can

16 Military Wives, The Decemberists

_Cheer them on to their rivals!_

_Because America can_

_And America can't say no_

_And America does_

_If America says it's so,_

_It's so!_

_And the anchorperson on TV_

_Goes la-di-da-di-da_

Magneto was a man of strong convictions and swift, decisive action. He didn't know why he'd let Charles Xavier talk him into allowing the federal agents to leave with Jean and Gambit. Perhaps his work training the New Mutants had softened him somehow, made him more patient. If one of Xavier's own had not been involved, Magneto would not have been persuaded by Xavier's reason. If the man was willing to sacrifice Jean Grey, Magneto would also reluctantly let go of one of his own as well. He valued Gambit almost as much as Xavier valued Jean. The boy was one of his successes. Gambit was loyal but without zealotry. He was bright and latched onto concepts quickly. He did not succumb to provocation. He was often breaking up arguments before they turned into brawls. Best of all, Magneto had found Gambit first, before Charles could fill his head with idyllic nonsense of humans and mutants peacefully co-existing. The abduction of Jean and Remy had proved that such thoughts were folly.

Magneto was now following Xavier as the man maneuvered his wheelchair down the hall. They were traveling down a corridor in one of Washington D.C.'s government office buildings. The seeming subservience of trailing behind Xavier was galling. Xavier smiled slightly and turned his head to look at Magneto. "You do realize your position behind me is an attempt at concealing your presence?" he said telepathically. "I am disguising you telepathically. Walking behind me only ensures no one bumps into you accidentally."

"Yes, of course Charles," Magneto replied. "I only thought we might move a little faster. I'd like to meet with this Gyrich person sometime _today_." With a minute gesture, he propelled Xavier's wheelchair forward a little faster. The gears in the mechanized chair whirred in protest.

"That is exceedingly rude," Xavier said, gripping the arms of his chair.

"Charles, you've become so uppity in your old age," Magneto said with a vague smile.

"And you, my friend, have not changed at all."

"You realize it was _your_ student who caused all this trouble. By all accounts, Jean was the one who started the fight."

"Jean was provoked. I suppose in her place, you would have reacted to the crowd with your usual calm and aplomb."

"Uppity, and impudent."

"This is the office," Xavier said, pausing before an office door. There was a gold plate on the red oak door reading: 'Henry Peter Gyrich, CSA Liaison.'

With his command of magnetism, Magneto gestured and the door latch turned. The pair entered the office. Xavier's chair struggled a bit on the deep blue carpet. An administrative assistant looked up from his laptop.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Doctor Charles Xavier. Here for my appointment with Mister Gyrich," replied Xavier.

"Ah. A moment, Doctor Xavier," the assistant said, before pressing a button on an intercom. The man conversed briefly through the intercom before standing and gesturing Xavier toward a second door. "Mister Gyrich will see you now."

Xavier and the as-yet unseen Magneto proceeded into the inner office. Gyrich's office had a large window overlooking the short outer yard surrounding the government office building. His walls were decorated with framed photographs, each featuring the man now standing before them. Gyrich was a man of short stature with blazing red hair and ruddy complexion. He wore thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a perpetual frown on his face.

"Doctor Xavier," Gyrich said, extending a square hand to the Professor.

Behind Xavier, Magneto let the office door click shut. Gyrich blinked and stared at the man who seemed to have materialized from thin air. "Who are...?"

"This is my...colleague, Erik Lehnsherr," Xavier explained. Magneto removed his black, wide brimmed fedora, revealing silvery white hair.

"Mister Gyrich," Magneto said coolly.

"It was my understanding that this would be a one-on-one interview, Doctor Xavier," Gyrich said, leaning back against the edge of his desk and folding his arms over his chest. "How did your _colleague_ manage to get past security without proper clearance?"

"I'm sure your intelligence may be able to tell you that," Xavier replied, touching a hand to his temple.

Gyrich's face reddened and he stood upright. "I could have Captain America down here in a heartbeat!" he told Xavier. "You can't just waltz in here, flaunting your...your mutancy...!"

"Mister Gyrich, I assure you I meant no offense. Erik rather insisted on accompanying me at the last moment."

Gyrich didn't look appeased, but he did re-seat himself. "During our phone conversation, you implied there had been some trouble with two of our CSA agents?"

"We wanted to raise some concerns," Magneto said ominously.

"Fred Duncan and Carl Denti arrived at the Institute yesterday morning and arrested two of my students. I have not seen nor heard from them since."

Gyrich turned and shuffled some paperwork on the desk. He retrieved a pair of files and flipped through one and then the other. "Right. Jean Grey and Remy LeBeau," Gyrich said after a moment. "I pulled up their files after we spoke yesterday. Apparently, they instigated some sort of riot on a university campus?"

"The reports may have been exaggerated," Xavier said.

"Jean Grey has been involved in some suspicious activity in the past," Gyrich said idly. "And Mister LeBeau was a guest of the state for several months. Though it appears that a glitch in the system has erased most of his record. He was released on a technicality."

Xavier looked to Magneto and raised an eyebrow.

"Is there any way we might be able to communicate with our students?" Magneto asked.

"At the moment...I'm afraid not. But I'll see what I can do," Gyrich stood and circled his desk. He sat in his leather chair. He seemed prepared to dismiss the two men.

"Mr. Gyrich," Xavier began, "what can you tell us about the Genosha Project?"

Gyrich was momentarily thrown. "Where did you hear that name?" His voice was deadly quiet.

"One of your agents might have mentioned it," Xavier said.

"I sincerely doubt that, Doctor Xavier," Gyrich retorted.

"We shouldn't be having this conversation," Xavier said. "Because my students should never have been abducted."

"Your talking about this at all is a violation of the PATRIOT Act," Gyrcich snapped.

"Have we rescinded the First Amendment?" Xavier said dryly.

Gyrich sighed. "Doctor Xavier, I have my own reservations about the recent revisions. We recently underwent a bureaucratic reshuffling. It gives the semblance of doing something, without actually accomplishing anything. After Apocalypse, people demanded action. A way to control mutants."

"Kidnapping college students is your answer?" Magneto asked.

Xavier held up a hand, staying Magneto from saying anything further.

"The Genosha Project is an attempt to control mutants?"

"Doctor Valerie Cooper developed the concept. She speculated that the resulting backlash against mutants would result in instances such as the trouble on Bayville University's campus. She proposed a scenario where mutants would live together---."

"Perhaps in an internment camp...?" Magneto's fists clenched.

"---And be properly trained in the use of their abilities," Gyrich finished.

"Would we be able to have a conversation with Doctor Cooper?" asked Xavier.

"I'm afraid not. Doctor Cooper is dead," Gyrich said with blunt finality. "The project was picked up by a Doctor Milbury. A geneticist. Apparently, he projected the evolution of mutants some forty years ago."

"I've not heard of the man," Xavier said.

Gyrich shrugged. "He operated out of some unaffiliated project in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Somewhat hush-hush."

"Is Doctor Milbury available?" Xavier asked. "Where is he now?"

Gyrich raised a shoulder. "Hard to say. I communicate with him electronically, never in person."

"So you do not know where this project is taking place?" Magneto asked skeptically.

"It moves around," Gyrich replied.

Xavier looked at Gyrich quizzically.

"The project has no central location," Gyrich prompted. "Rest assured, your students are perfectly safe."

"I'd feel more assured if I could speak with them myself," Xavier pressed.

"I'll see what I can do," Gyrich reiterated. "But after the re-shuffling, I find I have little say in the matter." His expression turned bitter.

"We appreciate your time, Mister Gyrich. I hope we might speak again in the near future," Xavier said.

Once outside of the office building, Magneto brought Xavier's Rolls Royce around and helped his colleague into the passenger seat. "Were you able to uncover anything from Gyrich's mind?" Magneto asked.

"Very little beyond what Gyrich admitted himself. The man is clearly dispossessed of his former power."

"He was rather forthcoming, all things considered," Magneto said. "I thought that was your doing."

"Something about the Genosha Project has caused some disquiet," Xavier said quietly. "I confess I am apprehensive as well. My father was involved in a genetic research project about forty years ago...also in Alamogordo, New Mexico."

"A strange coincidence," Magneto glanced from the road to Xavier.

"Indeed. And yet I've never heard of this Doctor Milbury," Xavier said. "I may have to consult with the project archivist, but I have a feeling that Milbury is not who he claims to be."

"Then our students are indeed in danger?"

Xavier paused, considering the passing scenery. "We need to assemble a full team."

* * *

Thanks reviewers: Jay, Xment2, Kelly, Abbs, AJ, Wildcard and everyone else who put alerts and fave's on my story. I really appreciate it!

Next: We find out what the Brotherhood has been up to. And Jean does hard time!


	10. Underground

Chapter 9: Underground

Underground, Ben Folds Five

_Everything's heavy underground_

_You been kicked around?_

_Did life bring you down here?_

_Everything's heavy underground_

_And we'll be decked_

_in all black_

_slamming the pit fantastic_

_Officer Friendly's little boy's_

_got a mohawk_

_and he knows just where_

_we're coming from_

_It's industrial_

_work it underground_

Somewhere off the coast of Africa, a small decrepit jet rattled high over the waves of the Indian Ocean. The jet hardly appeared air-worthy, and yet it bobbed along through the air in defiance of logic and gravity. The tail end of the aircraft had been rent off and reattached shoddily with welded and riveted metal plates. Rust ran down the belly of the jet, leaking from the many wounds in the hull. The nose of the jet was crumpled, and upon closer examination, one might think the dents looked suspiciously like large hand prints. Strangest of all, the entire aircraft was surrounded by a bright blue glow. Save for the hollow whisper of air over the damaged parts, the jet's passage was silent. The passengers, on the other hand, were not.

"We've been at it for ages!" snapped an irritated voice. "I say we give up! This is hopeless!"

"Can it, Pietro!" griped a second voice. "We're not quitting until we find him."

"I don't see why we're bothering, Lance! No one cares about that stupid slimeball," Pietro continued to whine. He turned to sneer at the only female aboard the jet. "Especially not you!"

"Stop distracting Wanda," Lance said, shoving Pietro into a nearby seat. "She's the only thing keeping this bird in the air!"

Wanda sat in the pilot's seat, her brows knitted in concentration. The threat of plunging headlong into the ocean was the only thing that kept her from hexing everyone on board. Patience was not a virtue she possessed. The fact that she could keep the jet in the air raised a lot of questions about Wanda's reality warping ability. Just how powerful was she? The Brotherhood preferred not to know the answer.

"If we crash, it's because we've pushed Wanda too far!" Pietro said. "This is a wild goose chase."

"We're getting closer," Wanda said. She was answered by a blip, blip, blip sound from the transmitter.

"You said that last time, and then the signal vanished," Pietro said. "Toad can't tie his own shoe laces, let alone send us a homing signal. We need to turn back. Besides, Blob ate all the food we brought!"

"There's still a box of Sugar Bombs left," Blob groused under his breath. Louder he said: "And I'm with Avalanche. We keep looking for Toad."

It had been nearly a week since the Brotherhood received a garbled message from their missing teammate. A scrambled webcam image had appeared on Wanda's laptop. The brief transmission was of Toad, panic-stricken as usual, pleading for rescue. The brief communication had ended with a set of coordinates. Wanda had tried to put it off as one of Todd's clumsy attempts to win her affections, but when the amphibious mutant had failed to show up for meals, the Brotherhood members had begun to worry.

Avalanche knew something about coordinates and tracking signals from his brief stint as an X-Man(1). He and Blob had patched their stolen and heavily damaged jet, and with the Scarlet Witch's help, the aircraft had finally limped into the air. As much as Avalanche hated flying and liked heroics even less, he had led the charge to rescue Toad. Blob was quick to follow suit. Todd was like the little brother he never had, nor wanted. It was Blob who cajoled the Scarlet Witch into coming as well, pointing out to her that Todd had made every attempt to rescue her from Magneto(2). She conceded, and dragged her brother Quicksilver along behind her. Avalanche would have preferred the fast talking boy stay at home. Quicksilver fancied himself the team leader, but he'd thus far failed to lead the Brotherhood to anything but disaster.

The sounds from the transmitter increased in frequency. Avalanche leaned over the control panel. Something had appeared on the radar. He dared a glance out the window. Being away from the ground made him queasy. He rarely even ventured to the second floor of the Brotherhood house, favoring the ground floor or better yet, the basement. It was worse when all you could see for miles was water. As he looked out the window, there was a moment when his stomach lurched dangerously, threatening to eject the bowl of Sugar Bombs he'd had earlier. But something amidst the black waves below caught his eye. "There!" he cried, pointing downwards. "Land!"

Blob and Quicksilver crowded the cockpit. Blob's ponderous bulk accidentally mashed Wanda up against the controls and the plane dropped a few hundred feet. A communal shriek of terror echoed inside the cabin.

"Shove off, Blob!" Quicksilver cried, trying unsuccessfully to move the bigger man away.

Wanda managed to catch the plane, and everyone save Blob was driven to the floor. The nose was pointing precariously downward, so all they could see through the windshield was ocean waves. The plane drifted along, turning a slow pirouette.

"I can't do this much longer!" Wanda groaned.

Avalanche was pressed up against the window, giving him the eerie sensation that there was nothing between him and the ocean below. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the hint of shoreline.

"A little to the right!" he cried.

"Don't you mean starboard?" Quicksilver quipped.

"That's on boats, stupid," Blob said. "Not planes."

"It's both, you morons!" Wanda screamed. "Give me some room!"

The plane continued to spiral downward. Their slow roll began to pick up momentum.

"Aren't we coming in a little fast?" Avalanche asked.

Wanda moaned and slumped against the controls. "Wanda!" Quicksilver cried. He seized her by the shoulders and began to shake her.

The blue glow surrounding the aircraft stuttered and then vanished.

"Grab the stick!" Avalanche cried. "Do something! Pull back on the whatsit!"

Blob began yanking levers and the jet seemed to level out a bit. There came a horrible groaning from the rear of the aircraft, but the sound was quickly drowned out when they began hitting the tops of trees. Foliage went flying in all directions as the plane sheared off the tops of palm trees. The jet shuddered as it propelled along, then canted to the side. They dropped below the canopy and into the dark forest. One of the wings caught on a tree trunk and jet abruptly spun around. For a moment, they were pointed up towards the sky and the jet threatened to flip over, but Blob's bulk brought the plane crashing forward. The plane came to a sudden halt.

For a long while, nothing moved. From the rear of the jet came a creaking of metal, and the tail section fell off.

"Blip," said the transmitter, then it abruptly sparked and went black.

Quicksilver had landed on top of Blob. He pulled himself away, and began looking frantically around the cabin. "Where's Wanda?" he cried. "Blob, I swear, if you've smashed her---!"

"Relax, Pietro, I'm right here!" Wanda crawled out from beneath the mangled captain's seat.

"Is everyone alive?" Avalanche asked.

"I think so," Blob answered.

The motley band of mutants stumbled from the wreckage of their jet and out into a jungle.

"Where the heck are we?" Avalanche asked, looking around at the palm trees and vines. He dropped the pack he was carrying. The earth under his feet was spongy, but at least it was the ground.

"This was where the beacon was coming from," said Wanda.

"I didn't see anything from the air," Avalanche said. "Just trees. There's gotta be some kind of communications tower or something."

"I dunno you guys. This place looks deserted. Don't you think someone would have heard that crash?" Quicksilver said, as he looked around nervously. Something smashed through the trees nearby, and he gave a start, nearly launching himself into Blob's arms. "Whattheheckwasthat!?"

"It's just some breaking branches! Just chill out, all ready!" Avalanche shouted. "This here's what we'll do. Quicksilver, you go that way, back towards the shoreline and look around."

"Reconnaissance," Wanda prompted.

"Whatever," Avalanche looked irritated.

"I'm not going out there by myself," Quicksilver snapped. "What if this is like LOST and I run into The Others, or something?"

"I hardly think that's going to happen. You're the fastest, so just go around the island and scope the place out."

Wanda sighed and shook her head. "'Scope the place out'...?"

"Then come back here," Avalanche told Quicksilver.

"And what are you guys gonna be doing while I'm risking my neck?"

"We're gonna go in," Avalanche pointed toward the island's interior. "We'll start out walking in a circle."

"We'll conduct a sweep of the area..." Wanda suggested.

"Whatever, Wanda. Okay, so let's go. Blob, you go first," Avalanche commanded, hefting his pack onto his shoulder.

"Take point," said Wanda.

"Whatever!"

Quicksilver hesitated, but Avalanche raised a fist in a threatening manner. Quicksilver zipped off into the forest, his form nothing but a silvery blue blur. The remaining Brotherhood members proceeded through the forest. Blob crashed his way through the underbrush as the Scarlet Witch and Avalanche trailed in his wake. Blob resolutely plunged ahead, but the others were far more cautious. They continuously looked to their left and right, occasionally glancing behind. The forest was dark and quiet except for the sound of vegetation crunching under Blob's weight.

Suddenly, there came a rumble from under their feet.

"What's up?" Blob turned to Avalanche.

"Don't look at me," Avalanche replied. "I didn't do that."

The rumble steadily increased. The trio clutched at trees, which thrashed overhead. Scarlet Witch threw her hands over her head when a coconut was launched from a tree like a stone from a catapult.

"Make it stop!" she cried.

Avalanche held out his arms, hoping the strange earth would obey him. He felt the familiar pressure behind his eyes that occurred when he used his powers. Eventually, the trembling stilled. Avalanche straightened and rubbed his forehead. "That kinda felt weird," he said.

"How so?" Wanda asked.

"Hard to explain," Avalanche said shaking his head. "Like at Halloween, when you stick your hand into a bowl of cold spaghetti with your eyes closed, and they tell you it's brains."

Wanda looked at him quizzically.

"Like it feels like one thing, but it's not."

She just shook her head and shrugged at him.

"All right, let's just keep moving," he waited for Wanda to comment, but she remained silent.

Blob turned and took a step into the forest. His big foot came down with a squelch.

"Hunh?" he looked down to see his foot had disappeared into a puddle. He pulled back, but his foot remained stuck. Blob was thrown off balance. His arms flew out and he fell forward.

"Freddy!" Avalanche and Wanda rushed forward.

Blob was half immersed in a huge sandy puddle. His head came up with some effort and he gasped for air. His arms flailed, but it only served to mire him deeper into the puddle.

"H-help!" he cried.

"What is this stuff?" Wanda asked, casting about for a way to rescue Blob.

"Maybe it's quicksand, right?" Avalanche said, seizing a nearby vine and yanking it free.

"It doesn't look like quicksand to me!"

"How often do you see quicksand, Wanda!?" Avalanche threw the vine at Blob. Blob grabbed it and pulled, but the vine only snapped.

"Quick, hex him out or something! He's sinking faster!"

"Okay okay!" the Scarlet Witch concentrated, flexing her fingers in the meditative positions her mentor, Agatha Harkness, had taught her. She was still shaky from the crash and the expenditure of energy it had taken to keep the jet in the air. Her hex caused a few stones to pop like bottle-rockets, and a tree uprooted itself.

The quicksand that didn't look like quicksand made several unpleasant bloop blurp noises, but did not relinquish it's hold on their teammate. Avalanche and Wanda watched helplessly as Blob sunk deeper and deeper. They both dove to their stomachs. They grabbed Blob's big hands and tried to pull him back. It was no good. Blob was just too heavy and he sank like a stone. They watched, horrified, as Blob sank from sight, the tips of his fingers disappearing into the strange soil. Several fat bubbles rose up to break on the surface.

"Oh no, oh no!" Wanda shouted over and over again. Hexes flew through the air wildly.

Avalanche grabbed a whipping vine and tied it around his waist. "Wanda! Calm down! I'm going after him. You need to try harder to pull us both back out. You could lift a jet! You can lift Blob!"

He was poised to jump in after Blob when suddenly the quicksand began to move sluggishly. Soon, the once still puddle became a slowly spinning whirlpool. Then the quicksand began to drain away like sand through an hourglass. Or water down a toilet. Avalanche and Wanda looked down into a pit. Avalanche grabbed the pack he'd dropped and pulled out a flashlight. Shining it downward, they spied their teammate laying face down at the bottom of the pit. Blob raised himself to his hands and knees and choked out some wet sand. The quicksand continued to drain away as he stood.

"Freddy! Are you okay?" Avalanche called down.

Blob looked up at his teammates, shielding his eyes from the glare of the flashlight. "Uh, I think so," called Blob, he patted himself down as if to reassure himself that all his body parts were accounted for. He was standing hip-deep in the soupy dirt. A horrible stench rose out of the pit. He took in his surroundings. "I think I'm in some sort of tunnel...It looks like it goes back some ways."

"We're coming down," Avalanche said.

"No, don't! It's too deep, you'll just get yourselves stuck," Blob waved them back. He waded about in the thick mud. "I'm going to go this way," he pointed down the tunnel. "Maybe there's a way out."

"Okay, just hold on." Avalanche riffled about in his pack. He extracted a second flashlight, a flare gun, and a ball of twine. He wrapped one end of the twine around the flashlight and flare gun. "Here, I'm sending you down some stuff," he called down to Blob. He began to reel out the length of twine until Blob took hold of the tools. "Just fire off a flare when you find your way out. We'll follow it and find you."

Blob nodded and turned on his flashlight. "Okay, see ya topside," he called before ambling off down the tunnel.

"Now what?" Wanda asked, slumping back onto her rump.

"We keep looking for Toad," Avalanche said, holding out his hand and pulling the Scarlet Witch to her feet. "It'll be light soon. Things'll be clearer then."

With the meager beam from the flashlight bobbing ahead of them, the two remaining Brotherhood members picked their way deeper into the jungle. Behind them, bent twigs unbent. Trodden leaves unfurled themselves. Vines crept back into the trees. The jungle slowly rose up and closed in.

* * *

(1): That was Episode 22, Joyride. Lance tries to join the X-Men in order to be closer to Kitty. After a harrowing flight in the X-Jet, he decided being an X-Man was too much work.

(2): Episode 37, The Toad, The Witch and the Wardrobe.

So where'd The Brotherhood get the jet? They did manage to steal a jet in the final episode of the last season of Evolution. They promptly crashed it, and then Blob and Magneto pretty much pulled it apart.


	11. Town Called Malice

Chapter 10: Town Called Malice

Town Called Malice, The Jam

_Better stop dreaming of the quiet life _

_Cos its the one we'll never know_

_And quit running for that runaway bus _

_Cos those rosey days are few_

_And stop apologizing for the things you've never done,_

_Cos time is short and life is cruel _

_But its up to us to change_

_This town called malice._

Jean awoke to several loud bursts from a klaxon. The repetitive buzz was followed by the calls of the guards, who were making their way down the corridor, knocking on the cell bars with their nightsticks. Jean sat up groggily and pulled back her blanket. It was damp. Her clothes were damp. The floor, when she lowered her feet to it, was also damp. The air was humid and uncomfortable. The nearby toilet reeked. Apparently, the sewage system wasn't functioning well.

She groaned, set her elbows on her knees and rubbed her face with both hands. Jean couldn't recall a time when she felt more miserable. She hadn't had anything to eat in nearly two days. Her body ached from laying prone on her stomach for several arduous hours. She had hardly slept at all. Sometime in the night, an earthquake had shaken her from her bed. From Moxie's description, she didn't imagine things would improve. As a 'drudge,' she was expected to put in several hours hard labor. There was a small beacon of hope, however. During the work hours, she would be able to use her mutant powers to aid in the construction. Cerebro would be able to detect her mutant signature as soon as the inhibitor was turned off. Perhaps she might even risk contacting the Professor telepathically. She had no idea how far she was from home, and no idea how far she could push her powers.

"Out of your bunks!" commanded the black-haired guard as she passed Jean's cell.

Moxie leapt down from her bunk and stretched. Betsy stood as well. Jean stumbled over to the sink and turned on the tap. The water ran yellow and tasted earthy and green, like sprouts. She drank it in large gulps, then splashed her face and pushed back her hair.

Her hair! Jean groaned again. The locks of bright red hair, once her best feature, had seemingly gone into shock. Her hair flipped out at the ends. The humidity had caused it to inflate to mammoth proportions. It was just as well there was no mirror in the cell. She imagined she looked like an extra from the musical Hairspray...or Carrot Top.

"Here, you can borrow my comb," Betsy said sympathetically, handing her a cheap plastic comb, like the kind dispensed before having school pictures taken.

Jean took the little comb from Betsy and tried to rake it through her hair, but it was no use. Moxie handed Jean a rubber band without comment. Jean thought she spied the feline mutant smiling a little. Jean watched enviously as Betsy pulled the comb effortlessly through her pin-straight hair. They weren't allowed to have regular hairbrushes or toothbrushes in their cells. Toothbrushes were permitted at the end of the day, during the half-hour they were allowed in the communal showers. Moxie had explained the ins and outs of the operation last night, for which Jean was grateful. Moxie seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on around here. She wasn't forthcoming with information about herself, but Jean imagined Moxie must have been here from the start.

The cell doors slid open with a thunderous rumble that echoed down the hall. Girls filed from the open doors and Jean joined the flow of bodies. They cleared a check-point and proceeded single-file into a larger hall floored with linoleum tile. The hall led to a set of double doors and beyond that a cafeteria. There were several racks holding trays in the center of the room, and everyone proceeded with unnatural silence toward the food. Jean's mouth watered and her stomach clenched, even though the food didn't look or smell particularly palatable. Food had all ready been portioned out into the sections on the tray. Jean slid a tray from a slot on the rack and was about to turn and follow Moxie when she spotted Remy. The male prisoners were filing in through another set of doors. Jean loitered near the rack of trays while other girls took their food and milled around her.

She felt Remy's eyes on her as he proceeded across the room. When he was near enough for Jean to see his expression of concern, she felt her composure slip. Maybe it was partially due to the bone-aching tiredness or the stress, but seeing something familiar in this horrible place reminded her of the desolation she had been trying to ignore. Her face crumpled, and she bit back a sob.

"Jeannie," Remy hissed. "Don't cry. Stop it!"

"Remy," she said tremulously, "I don't---I---."

"What right've you got to go on blubbering," he snapped. Jean was so shocked by his sudden shift in mood, her tears stopped instantly. His eyes had been filled with sympathy, now they were angry. "It's all your fault we're in this mess!" he continued. "You've wrecked everything for me, taken away my one chance at a normal life!"

Jean's jaw dropped. "_My_ fault?" she asked incredulously. "Do you think I wanted this to happen!?"

She was about to continue when Moxie appeared at her elbow. "Don't talk to him," Moxie told her. "We don't talk to the liners."

Jean shook her head, dumbfounded. She was so angry with Remy, she didn't bother to ask Moxie any questions. She followed Moxie to a nearby table where several gray-garbed mutants sat. Betsy was no where to be seen. Jean sat and ate in furious silence. She hadn't realized she'd finished until her spoon hit the bottom of her empty bowl. She wasn't entirely sure what she had eaten either.

"Do you know him?" Moxie asked eventually. "That boy you were yelling at?"

Jean wiped her hands on a paper napkin, wadded it, and threw it into her empty bowl. "Yes," she replied snappishly. "We go to school together."

"_Breakin' rocks in the hot sun! I fought the law, and the...law won!_" someone sang. Jean's breakfast curdled in her stomach. Jean knew that voice, that accent. She turned to see the mutant known as Pyro sauntering toward her table. "_I needed money, 'cause I had none!...I fought the law, and the_----hey, Red!"

Jean's shoulders hunched. People were turning to stare.

"Red, hey Red! Funny I should see you here! Oh, too rich. Prom queen Jean, here in prison!" Pyro cackled hysterically. "Oy, I almost didn't recognize you," he blathered as he took a seat across from Jean and Moxie, squashing the other two occupants at the table. "Love the new do!"

"Tone it down, Allerdyce," Moxie said. "It's too early."

"Never too early for me! Rise with the sun, I do!" he beamed at Jean. "So what're ya in for, Red? Were you a naughty girl? Do tell!" He banged his elbows down onto the table and propped his chin on the heels of his hands.

Moxie shook her head. "It doesn't matter anyway, John. They'll take one of us in for anything. Betsy was an au pair, and got taken in because there was a problem with her permit. We've all been royally screwed because of the wording in that stupid law. They've got permission to detain any suspected mutant until the nature of their mutation is assessed."

"Listen to her," Pyro told the others at the table, while jerking his thumb at Moxie. "The frickin' _Encyclopedia Britannica_."

"Quiet, John," Moxie said in an undertone.

"Aw, let me razz the newbie a bit more."

Moxie surreptitiously pointed to something over Pyro's shoulder. The black-haired guard was fast approaching. Pyro tilted his head back to look at her.

"'Ello, Arclight!" he said. "Y'know, I never noticed it before, but from this angle, I see your five o'clock shadow is darker than mine!"

Arclight glowered down at him, then seized him by the neck and hurled him across the room. Pyro squawked and slid several feet along the tiled floor. This didn't seem to be an unusual event, because it garnered little interest amongst the other inmates. Jean gaped at Arclight. No one human could've thrown Pyro with such minimal effort. The guards were mutants!

"Grey!" Arclight barked.

Jean looked at the guard, hating her. "Yeah?"

Arclight smirked at her. Pyro was right, the guard had a distinct mustache. "You're assigned to Squad Three. Pick up your boots in the prep area." With that, Arclight stalked off.

Pyro had climbed to his feet and had wobbled back to the table. "Squad Three?" he exclaimed, sticking his face between Jean and Moxie. "Why, that's our squad!" He clamped a hand down on both their shoulders. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

Jean squeezed her eyes shut. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Squad Three was made up of four other mutants besides Jean and Moxie. There was St. John, who until now, Jean had only known as Pyro. Being imprisoned hadn't altered him at all. Jean couldn't tell if he was insane or simply had an unusual sense of humor. In any case, he probably needed to be medicated.

Moxie introduced Jean to two other female inmates, Lorna and Joanna. Lorna seemed a nervous girl. She had very curly green hair. She was experiencing the same problems with humidity as Jean, and kept self-consciously pushing down her curls. Moxie warned Jean that both Lorna and Joanna reacted badly to any kind of stress. Lorna would dissolve into tears, whereas Joanna would react in anger. Joanna was a woman of Amazonian proportions. She stood over six feet tall, with dark brown skin and her hair in cornrows. When John suggested that her irritability was due to "woman troubles," Joanna hurled a wheelbarrow some thirty yards into the jungle. The look she gave John indicated that he would be next.

The last of their squad was Guido Carosella. He was heavily muscled to the point of disfigurement. Jean had a hard time believing he was only fourteen, but the thick, blue plastic-rimmed glasses and the braces helped. Guido had an encyclopedic knowledge of the Star Wars movies, and could recite an entire scene from start to finish. He did this often to distract himself from the obvious unpleasantness of his situation.

Their squad was monitored by one of the male guards. John called him "Cocksucker," though Jean doubted that was his real name. He was holding a two-way radio. His small piggish eyes looked over the squad. "Okay, we're ready here," he said into the radio. "You can reset the inhibitors now."

Jean looked at the manacle on her right wrist. Slowly, the power bar began to decrease. Jean felt the first inkling of other minds around her. Her hope diminished a bit when the power bar failed to decrease beyond the yellow level. Moxie's had turned completely off, as had Pyro's.

"You two," barked the guard, pointing at Pyro and Moxie. "Start clearing brush."

"With what?" Pyro snarked. "You want I should rub a coupla sticks together?"

The guard tossed Pyro a disposable Bic lighter. Pyro held it up for examination, displeasure written all over his face. Moxie picked up a flat-edged shovel. "I suppose I'll have to haul this by hand," she said to no one in particular, "since I no longer have a wheelbarrow."

Joanna looked abashed.

"Cargill! Carosella!" the guard continued. "Start mixing that cement! You two, start setting the rebar!" He gestured to the large rectangular trench before them. The trench had been walled with concrete, but the bottom was filled with stinking mud. Jean had no idea how to go about setting rebar.

"In a grid," Lorna told Jean, "like this." She gestured and several poles of reinforcement bar lifted into the air. She worked with some strain. Her inhibitor had also been set to half-power like Jean's. Jean aided Lorna in the heavy lifting, and the pair set the bars in place. Where the bars crossed, they had to twist a shorter bar at the joint to hold them in place. Though they weren't working with their hands, the labor was still difficult. They were both sweating after twenty minutes.

Jean didn't envy Moxie or Pyro, who were literally beating back the jungle. Moxie worked tirelessly, but Pyro occasionally took breaks to heckle the guard who was growing angrier by the minute. After several threats, Pyro would return to incinerating brush, and Moxie shoveling up the residue. They glanced furtively into the trees.

According to Moxie, the jungle was alive. Not just growing, but sentient. Jean couldn't see how that was possible. There was no fence around the compound however. Moxie said inmates who ran into the jungle were never seen again. That didn't stop Jean from contemplating the possibility of escape.

Pushing her telepathy to the point of pain, Jean whispered: "Professor Xavier, where are you?"

* * *

Thanks to my reviewers, once again. You guys make it worth it! 

Next: Prison Fight!


	12. Seven Nation Army

Chapter 11: Seven Nation Army

Seven Nation Army, The White Stripes

_I'm gonna fight 'em all_

_A seven nation army couldn't hold me back_

_They're gonna rip it off_

_Taking their time right behind my back_

_And I'm talking to myself at night_

_Because I can't forget_

_Back and forth through my mind_

_Behind a cigarette_

_And the message coming from my eyes_

_Says leave it alone_

Remy had never felt so exhausted. It was more than the lack of sleep and caffeine. He'd gone without both before and managed all right. The lethargy must have been another side-effect of losing his powers. As long as he stayed in motion, he was usually fine, even energized. Right now, he felt like a zombie. The sensation of unreality persisted, but the feeling of vertigo had decreased somewhat. He was led, feeling a bit punch-drunk, to another building. The interior looked much like an automobile assembly line. It was filled with the noise of whirring and clanking machinery. Robotic arms moved methodically through their paces. There were other inmates in orange coveralls positioned along the assembly line. The guard, a sickly looking woman with green hair, directed Remy to a station near the beginning of the line.

"Let's see if you can handle this before we put you on anything more advanced," she told him. "Betsy will tell you what to do." The snake-like woman slithered off.

Remy was pleasantly surprised to see that Betsy was an attractive girl with dusky skin and pansy eyes of purple. Her eyes matched her curtain of smooth hair. She smiled at him with her perfect rosebud mouth.

"Hullo," she said. "I'm so glad to be getting some help. The line has gotten a bit hectic these last few days."

She had a charming accent as well. Remy couldn't help himself. He gave her one of his lazy half-smiles. "I might as well lend a hand as long as I'm here," he drawled.

She looked down her button nose at him, sizing him up with a sly look on her face. "Hmp," she said in assessment. "All right, then."

The assembly line process required Betsy to solder an electric component to what looked like an engine block. The part would jerk down the rails set into the cement floor. When the part arrived at Remy's station, he would attach a series of wires and a cord to the electronic component. Remy would then screw down a protective cover over the electronic component and the whole thing would trundle away to the next station. Remy was given an electric screwdriver, a pallet of mass-produced covers, a box of screws and replacement bits for the drill.

Remy had no idea what the part was, or what it would become. The covers and the screws were made of an unconventional material. Remy speculated they were manufactured out of a polymer. The cords and wires were encased in a similar material. He had plenty of time to wonder about the nature of the project during the long work hours. The work was tedious and boring. The warehouse was hot, the air close and uncomfortable. Betsy rolled up her sleeves, and Remy imitated her. He noted that her arms were firm and sinewy. She had the lithe, compact form of a gymnast. Despite outward pretty-girl appearance, this girl was no cupcake.

There were plenty of things on this island that weren't what they seemed. The prison wasn't like any Remy had seen. In his experience, prison cells were small and cramped, large enough for maybe two people but usually crammed with three or four. In prison, the inmates never left the cells or the central community room, save to visit the exercise yard for an half-hour each day. Meals were delivered to the cells, and there was a single public shower in the community room.

Here, the cells were large enough to accommodate two bunks and fit four people comfortably. Prisoners were escorted from one building to another with a minimal number of guards. Many of the corridors ended with blind corners. The floor plan seemed more appropriate for communal living, rather than for housing prisoners or the necessary security. He also thought it strange that they should use enforced labor for such dexterous work. If Apocalypse had resorted to using slaves to build his pyramids, they wouldn't have stood for millennia. Slaves might be cheap, but their work was shoddy. Remy's enslavers were idiots if they thought the prisoners wouldn't resort to sabotage. He unrolled his sleeve and wiped his brow on his forearm. As he re-rolled the sleeve, he secreted several screws and bits in the folded fabric. He exhaled loudly and flapped the collar of his coveralls. Another few screws disappeared.

A lunch break interrupted the monotony of the day. The workers ate sandwiches and drank musty warm water from refilled bottles. There were only a handful of assembly line workers. After a long morning, none were particularly communicative or friendly. That was fine by Remy. Having listened to John's non-stop dialog all night, he needed a break. Now he knew how Piotr must feel having shared a room with Remy these last few weeks. After lunch, his thoughts had turned more somber than contemplative. After seeing Jean's face this morning, he'd allowed himself to become extremely angry. Not at her, but at what she had been reduced to. Jean could be hard as nails when she wanted to be, but she was probably the most sensitive and caring girl he'd ever met. He hated that this place and these people had made her cry. So he yelled at her. That had snapped her out of it, brought a little of her old self back. Her anger would be her shield. Her anger would keep her safe. Unbidden, an image of Rogue appeared in his mind's eye. Now there was a girl with some heavy duty armor. Remy was finally brought out of his reverie by a sounding klaxon. The assembly line came to a halt.

"How'd you like your first day?" Betsy asked.

"Now I know what an honest day's work is like," Remy responded. "Pretty crappy."

The prisoners were led from the warehouse and divided male and female. Each group was led back to their respective prisons. Remy got a brief view of the outside encampment before re-entering the building. They were reunited with the other male prisoners who had spent the day outdoors. St. John was looking sunburned, but retained his usual cocky smirk. Remy noticed the guard, Blockbuster, glowering in John's direction. Blockbuster was joined by Harpoon, and the two men shared a brief, grunted conversation. The threat of imminent danger prickled the back of Remy's neck.

Once inside, they were led to another part of the facility that included a locker room and communal shower. Each inmate was issued a towel, a bar of soap and a toothbrush. Remy sat on the metal bench that was affixed between two walls of lockers. It felt good to sit for a few minutes. He pulled off a sock and dropped the bar of soap into it and wrapped the slack end around his fist. He stuck the end of the plastic toothbrush into the metal grating of the bench and twisted until the toothbrush snapped. He popped his neck, then sat staring at the lockers, waiting.

"C'mon, Remy," chided John. "Don't tell me you're shy!"

Remy remained stoic, casting a sidelong glance at John. From the corner of his eye, he spied Blockbuster behind John. Harpoon was approaching from the other end of the line of lockers, closing John and Remy between himself and Blockbuster. Remy slowly stood and turned to John, who was suddenly realizing the trouble he was in.

Harpoon spoke to Remy's back: "Get lost. This is between us and the flamer."

Remy looked over his shoulder at Harpoon, and nodded slowly. It occurred to John that he was about to be abandoned.

"Hey, help a pal out!" he cried.

"Sorry, Allerdyce," Remy said, "you've brought this on yourself."

Remy approached Harpoon and had almost passed the man when his arm flew out, the sock laden with the bar of soap swished viciously through the air. The makeshift weapon caught Harpoon in the side of his head, and he cried out in pain while banging into the lockers with a clang. Remy then threw a dampened towel into Blockbuster's face, just as the huge man was about to dive at John. John nimbly leapt away as Blockbuster flailed at empty air. Remy aimed a kick at the back of Harpoon's knee, driving the man to the floor. Seizing him by his hair, he rammed Harpoon's chin into the metal bench.

By now, Blockbuster had whipped the towel away and was advancing on John and brandishing his nightstick. John was forced to dive to the floor. He crab-walked away from the enraged guard. Remy pulled the nightstick from Harpoon's belt and slid it across the floor to John. Blockbuster swished his weapon, aiming to take off John's head. John deflected the blow with his forearm, which gave a sickening crack when the nightstick connected. John gave a shout of pain which turned into a battle cry. He jammed the end of his newly acquired nightstick into Blockbuster's gut. The big man grunted, but went largely unharmed. Remy jumped onto the bench and aimed another swing with the bar-soap-turned-cudgel. Blockbuster threw up an arm, and the weapon wrapped itself harmlessly around his wrist. With a yank, he wrested it from Remy's grip. Simultaneously, John swung his truncheon into Blockbuster's knee. Blockbuster faltered, his knee bending under his weight. John's nightstick drove up into Blockbuster's throat and the man gagged. Remy used the opportunity to throw himself at the huge man and drive his sharpened toothbrush into the man's side. Blockbuster howled in pain and rage. Remy was thrown away. He hit the lockers, but was ready to come back fighting in an instant.

Remy suddenly felt an explosion of pain between his shoulder blades and stars danced before his eyes. His limbs had gone rigid and refused to obey him as he fell forward. He hit the cement floor just as a bright arc of energy sizzled past his head, striking John in the chest. John collapsed in a twitching heap. Someone was slowly approaching. A dark figure's booted feet stopped in Remy's line of vision. He managed to turn his head to see one of the armored Executioners looking down at him through the holes in his cowl. The man was holding his silver staff, the end was glowing softly. Blockbuster was growling and holding the wound in his side. Harpoon had climbed to his feet. He spat out a few broken teeth and was about to dive at Remy. The Executioner held out his staff and both Blockbuster and Harpoon backed away nervously.

"Leave these two to me," the man said, his voice echoing hollowly out of his mask. The two guards turned and went, glancing over their shoulders with hate in their eyes.

The Executioner bent and grasped both prone boys by their collars and pulled them to their feet. "To the vault with you," he said ominously. With that, he led the two reeling boys from the locker room and to whatever fate awaited them.


	13. Interlude

Interlude: Kitty's Dance Party Mix

_I just can't get you outta my head...boy your lovin' is all I think about..._

Kylie Minogue

Scott Summers had checked Cerebro's readouts every five minutes since Jean had been taken away in handcuffs. Rogue knew this, because she had watched him do it. Over twenty-four hours had passed since then, and still there was nothing. Part of her wanted to knock Scott over and commandeer Cerebro herself. Surely he was doing something wrong, and somehow, Rogue would figure it out and find both Jean and Remy. Of course, this was irrational, and Rogue didn't like to give into irrational impulses. People ended up getting pushed off cliffs when Rogue was irrational (1). Instead, Rogue bounced a blue rubber ball taken from the racquetball court. It thunked methodically against the wall, bounced off the floor and back into Rogue's gloved hands.

Unasked, Forge had redirected much of the Institute's resources to powering Cerebro. Searching the globe as it was put a lot of strain on the system. So far, they'd detected a mutant in Tokyo, a pair in Montreal, and one in the middle of nowhere out in Australia. But thus far, Cerebro had failed to detect Jean and Remy. Scott stared despondently at the readout, his chin propped in his hand. Rogue bounced her ball, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Incoming call," the mansion's cool computerized voice intoned. They both started, and Rogue's ball bounced away unnoticed. It had been silent so long, the sudden break was startling.

Scott pressed the button to put the caller on speaker phone. "Xavier Institute," he said with unusual brusqueness.

There was a pregnant pause at the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Scott asked.

"Hello," a voice eventually answered. "Is Doctor Charles Xavier there?"

"No he's not," replied Scott, turning back to the Cerebro unit. "Can I take a message?"

Rogue felt a glimmer of recognition. "Irene?" she asked.

Another long pause. "Hello, Rogue," replied Irene.

Scott glanced over at Rogue, gesturing for her to take up the headset. "Irene," Rogue said when she picked up the receiver. "Hey, Ah---uhm. Ah'm sorry Ah haven't called."

"That's all right, Rogue."

"Did'ja say you wanted to talk to Professor Xavier? What about? It's not about me, is it? Well, he's not here. He should be comin' back later today."

"No Rogue, this doesn't involve you. Perhaps I should call back at another time."

"No! No, Ah can give him a message." Rogue pulled a pen and paper towards the phone. "Okay, shoot."

Irene seemed to be gathering her thoughts. "All right. I was just returning his call concerning the Alamogordo project."

Rogue nodded to herself, struggling to spell "Alamogordo."

Just then, Cerebro chimed. "Mutant Signature...Mutan---Mutant Signa---Mutant Signature---Mu---Mu---Mutant Signature Detected..." Scott jumped to his feet. Apparently, several mutants had been discovered in the same area, and Cerebro was struggling to process it.

Irene was still speaking: "The head researchers were Amanda Mueller, Alexander Ryking, and Kurt Marko. And of course, Charles' father, Brian. There's no mention of a Doctor Milbury."

"Right, right..." Rogue said distractedly.

"Registered Mutant Signature Detected: Jean Grey," Cerebro said.

"But there was a graduate intern, Nathaniel Essex from Milbury University. He was one of the catalogers on the project."

"Hm..." Rogue's eyes searched Cerebro's readout. There was no mention of Remy. She scrawled on the pad: "Muler/Riking/Marco research" then, "Nate Essix Milbury."

"Did you get all that, Rogue?" Irene asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Ah got it. Ah'll tell the Prof, Irene."

"All right, Rogue," Irene paused. "Rogue? Please be careful."

"Sure, no prob," Rogue said distractedly. "Ah'll talk to you real soon, Ah promise."

Rogue replaced the receiver in the cradle. Ororo, Logan and several other Institute students were filtering into the room. Scott had let out a whoop of joy and was jumping around while punching the air with his fists.

"Has Cerebro found them?" Ororo asked.

Scott reined in his excitement. "Yes, Jean must be using her powers." He turned back to the screen. "Oh," he said, glancing at Rogue. "I'm sure Gambit's fine, too."

"What's this?" Logan asked, pointing to the screen where Cerebro's cross-hairs had targeted several mutants in the same place. "What're they, on some kind of boat?"

"What do you mean?" Scott asked, taking a closer look at the readout.

"Looks like they're moving along at a pretty good clip," Logan replied.

"We'll worry about it later. Storm, Nightcrawler, could you ready the X-Jet?" Scott said, slipping back into leadership mode. "Logan? Fire up the Velocity. It looks like we're gonna need both vehicles."

* * *

Episode 44: Impact. Rogue shoves a petrified Mystique off a cliff, causing her to shatter and apparently die.

* * *

_Everybody, move your feet and feel united...whoooaa!_

Junior Senior

Jean Grey was going to give Remy a piece of her mind. How dare he yell at her! She'd been thinking about what she was going to say to him all day. The more she thought, the more angry she got. What a jerk he was! At dinnertime, the inmates gathered in the cafeteria. She knew there was some unspoken rule about how as a drudge, she wasn't to speak to the "liners." Supposedly, they got better treatment and didn't have to work as hard as the drudges. Jean didn't care. She was going to tear Remy a new one. She looked at the two tables where the other liners were sitting. She didn't spot him amongst the orange-clad inmates. She did see Betsy though, who caught her eye and gave her a grim smile.

Jean turned back to her dinner. Some sort of mystery meat and overcooked vegetables. Not anything unusual. Cafeteria food was the same everywhere. She was seated with the other members of Squad Three. It was strangely quiet.

"Where's John?" Lorna asked, looking about for their missing member.

"Who cares," Moxie replied. "I'd like to eat my meal in peace for a change."

Lorna twisted her napkin nervously. "I didn't like the looks Blockbuster was giving him," she quavered.

"It would serve him right to get pounded," Joanna growled. "Only I'd like to be the one to do it."

Guido approached the girls' table and gave a sort of shy smile. "Uhm..." he began.

"Have a seat," Jean said, gesturing to the empty bench across from her.

"For crying out loud, Carosella," Moxie said. "You sit with us every damn day. When are you going to grow a pair?"

Guido turned crimson. "I just don't usually sit with the girls," he stammered. "Back home, I mean."

"Have you seen John?" Lorna asked.

Guido sat beside Joanna. Together, they resembled nothing so much as a human wall. "Uhm," Guido said again. "There was a fight. In the locker rooms."

Everyone looked at Guido, even Joanna, who normally stared at her feet all day. "Was anyone hurt?" Jean asked.

"Blockbuster and Harpoon," Guido said, a smile grew on his face, revealing his silver braces. "It was awesome...I---I should've helped." He looked down at his food, ashamed.

"Don't keep us in suspense, Guido," Moxie said, making a beckoning gesture with her hand. "Give us the dirty details."

Guido explained the fight that occurred between the two guards and St. John and Remy. He went into great detail and included sound effects. He looked both pleased and embarrassed; he was holding the rapt attention of four young women. "Then the Executioner showed up," he finished. "And he dragged both John and the new guy away."

"Oh no," Jean said. She suddenly felt guilty about her earlier less-than-pleasant thoughts about Remy. "Where did the Executioner take them?"

"I don't know," Guido replied.

"He wouldn't have killed them, would he?" Jean turned to Moxie. Moxie's face gave nothing away.

"I'm sure they're fine," Moxie said. It sounded like a false platitude to Jean's ears. Moxie set her clawed hand on Jean's and squeezed, hard. "We're all going to be fine." Jean looked down at Moxie's inhibitor. The bars were black. The inhibitor was off. Jean's eyes went to Moxie's.

"How did---," Jean began.

Moxie cut her off with a sharp shake of her head. Her slitted eyes shifted away. Arclight was again approaching their table.

"You two," she barked while pointing at Jean and Lorna. "We need you to unload the cargo plane."

Jean gave the guard a disgusted look and threw her fork onto her tray. Lorna stood immediately and followed Arclight. "Great," Jean griped.

Once again out on the airstrip, Jean and Lorna waited as a plane descended onto the runway. Trask had also made an appearance. He glanced at Jean and gave her a smirk.

"Bring out the crates," Arclight told Jean and Lorna. The girls approached the opening cargo door. Once it was open, they went inside, and together maneuvered the crates down the ramp.

Jean squinted into the sunset. Maybe this extra work was a blessing in disguise. Maybe this would give the X-Men another chance to find her. Jean felt someone's thoughts niggle the back of her mind. They were coming from the forest. Jean turned to the trees. Was Moxie right? Were the trees really alive? She narrowed in on a pair of minds near the tree line. Not for the first time tonight, she was struck with surprise. There were two familiar forms hunkered on the outskirts of the compound. They were planning a rescue.

* * *

_Don't feel like dancin', dancin'...Rather be home with no-one when I can't get down with you._

Scissor Sisters

"We haven't seen Freddy's signal," Wanda said as she trudged along, her eyes on her feet. She was careful not to step into anything that looked suspicious.

"He's probably waiting 'til nightfall," Avalanche replied, swatting at mosquitoes. "So we can see it better. That won't be long now."

"Maybe we should head back towards the jet," Wanda said. "Pietro might have found something by now."

Avalanche came to a halt. "You're probably right. We've been searching all day and nothing. We need to find a place to refill our canteens." He shook his canteen, and it responded with a hollow slosh.

"Which way?" Wanda asked, peering through the trees. Every direction seemed the same to her.

Avalanche studied a compass. "That way," he pointed.

"What're you, a Boy Scout now?"

"Very funny. Believe it or else, I did manage to learn something at survival camp."

From the cover of the trees came a soft rattling noise.

"Did you hear that?" Avalanche asked, looking at Wanda.

"Hear what?"

"Yeah, neither did I," he said nervously. The rattling repeated, closer this time. It sounded like beads rattling around in a maraca.

"Snake!" Avalanche cried, and they bolted. They ended up running in two different directions. When Avalanche realized he wasn't being followed, he turned and ran after Wanda.

"Wanda, wait!" He jumped a fallen tree, took several stumbling steps, then caught his foot on something and fell forward. "Wheelbarrow?" he thought, before he went tumbling down an embankment. He crashed through the leaf litter and finally came to a rest at the bottom of a ravine.

"Lance!" called a voice from above.

"Wanda! I fell down a ravine!" he called, but it was too late. There was a thunk as Wanda stumbled over the wheelbarrow. She came barreling over the embankment. Her feet lost their purchase and she too fell down the hill. Avalanche scrambled to get out of the way. Wanda landed on him with a crash.

For a while, they lay in a moaning heap. Wanda eventually extricated herself and crawled away to a safe distance. "This would never have happened to the X-Men," she groused.

"My day was bad enough without you mentioning them," Avalanche replied. His visor was cracked in two.

"I was just now thinking there aren't any rattlesnakes in the jungle," Wanda said.

"So now you're a botanist?"

"Botanists study plants, dumbass," Wanda sniped. "Herpetologists study snakes. Have you ever even tried to open a book in your life?"

"Herpa-what? Now you're just making stuff up."

"What's that noise?" Wanda asked, looking up.

"Not another snake?"  
"I told you, there's no rattlesnakes!"

The sound was getting closer. It sounded like an engine. "Hey, it's a plane!" Avalanche pointed skyward. A cargo jet was closing in.

"Quick, let's find out where it lands!" Wanda clambered to her feet. Avalanche followed after her. The two pulled themselves up the other side of the ravine. At the crest of the hill, they found the trees had cleared somewhat. Through them, they spied the glare of late afternoon sun off concrete. The pair slowly crept forward, keeping low to the ground. The sound of engines grew louder, and eventually they spied a plane touching down.

Avalanche pulled the strap of his pack over his head, and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

"Where'd you get those?" Wanda asked.

"I found them in Mystique's old room," he whispered back. He lifted his broken visor and put the binoculars to his eyes. When the jet came to a halt, several people approached from the low gray buildings on the outskirts of the runway. Two were dressed in gray coveralls. Three were dressed in black uniforms. Avalanche recognized the mustachioed man with the military-style haircut. It was Bolivar Trask.

"Hey," Avalanche said. "I know that jerk."

"What?" Wanda said. "Lemme see." She grabbed the binoculars from Lance. The neckstrap pulled tight around his throat.

"Hacck!"

"Shush! Do you want them to hear?"

"What's going on?" he asked, loosening the neckstrap.

"They're unloading the plane," she told him. "That's strange...It looks like the crates are flying?"

Avalanche snatched the binoculars back. Wanda was right. The crates were levitating a few inches off the ground. One of the workers in gray uniform stepped down from the cargo hold of the jet. She held one hand out toward the crates. The crates neatly lined themselves on the tarmac. The woman turned and looked out into the forest. Avalanche gasped, and in the binoculars, he could see the woman's face take on expression of surprise.

"Holy crap," Avalanche said, dumbstruck. "It's Jean Grey."

* * *

_I'm bringin' sexy back..._

Justin Timberlake

The Executioner dragged Remy and John from the building and into another. This building was further back from the others and closer to the jungle. They passed through a door that opened upon the Executioner's approach. They wound down corridors and at last came to several cells. These doors were solid steel with a rectangular window in the center. John was tossed through the open door of the first cell they came to. The Executioner used his staff to nudge the door shut. He slapped a red square button outside the door, which buzzed and the deadbolts of the cell door slammed into place.

As they approached the second cell, Remy stumbled and caught himself against the door jamb with a pained grunt. The Executioner pushed Remy into the cell with kick. Remy hit the floor on his backside just as the door slammed and locked. He stood and rubbed his tailbone. At the window, he glanced back and forth. The Executioner had gone. He turned from the door to examine his new cell. It was long and narrow, with a single cot and a toilet. So, solitary confinement is it? he thought.

There was a light recessed into the ceiling, but it was off. The only light came through the window in his cell door. He imagined that the cell was monitored by a hidden camera, but considering how lax the security was elsewhere, that might not be the case. He went and lay down on the cot. He rolled down his sleeves. The screws hidden there were gone, shoved into the holes for the deadbolt in the door jamb. He palmed several drill bits with a casual sleight of hand. He held the inhibitor on his right wrist up to his face and examined the screws holding the outer casing together. He smiled and let his arm drop. There would be plenty of time later. Right now, it was quiet. He would take a nap.

* * *

Next: The hills are alive...with the sound of _screaming_! 


	14. Earth Intruders

Chapter 12: Earth Intruders

Earth Intruders, Bjork

_We are the earth intruders_

_We are the earth intruders_

_Muddy with twigs and branches_

_Turmoil! Carnage!_

_Here come the earth intruders_

_We are the paratroopers_

_Stampede of sharpshooters_

_Come straight from voodoo_

Back in her cell, Jean trudged forward and landed face-first on her bunk. She was exhausted. Moxie looked down from the top bunk, her short pageboy haircut flaring out around her pointed ears. "Having fun yet?" she asked.

Jean glared at her with one eye, then rolled onto her back. She tapped the inhibitor on her wrist. "So, what's the story?" she asked.

Moxie smirked and disappeared onto her bunk.

"What's going on?" Betsy said from her bunk on the opposite side of the room.

Jean beckoned Betsy to join her. Betsy sat herself in Jean's bunk. "Moxie's inhibitor isn't working," Jean explained in a hushed undertone.

"What? But how?"

Moxie reappeared. "A fluke," she said. "Or perhaps because my mutation is mostly physical, they just don't care."

"We have to figure out a way out of here," Jean whispered. "Listen, I saw someone out in the jungle."

Betsy's eyes widened. "One of the denizens?" she asked, her voice full of anticipated horror.

Jean gave her a quizzical glance. "The what?"

"One of the island inhabitants," Moxie said. "The tree people."

Jean shook her head. "No, I saw my...friends. Or not friends, but people I know."

Moxie cocked her head. "Who? The X-Men?"

"Two members of the Brotherhood. Avalanche and the Scarlet Witch."

Moxie raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she said speculatively. Then she smiled slyly. She once again disappeared back onto her bunk. Jean thought the girl was acting very strangely.

"They're planning a rescue," Jean continued. "I say tomorrow, we make a break for it, meet up with the Brotherhood and organize a break out."

"Jean, you can't!" Betsy said. "The jungle!"

"I'm not going to stay here for fear of a bunch of tree people," Jean snapped. "Moxie, are you with me?"

"No."

"What? Why not? You out of everyone has full access to your powers!" Jean said.

"Because," Moxie said. "If those Brotherhood losers are really here, then we wait. They'll cause enough catastrophe to distract the guards. Then we'll escape."

Jean paused. Moxie might have a point.

"Lights out!" squawked one of the guards. The lights in the cells began to turn off with resounding clangs. The girls' cell went dark. The corridor lights flickered eerily.

"Well, g'night," Betsy sighed and returned to her bunk.

Jean lay back down and closed her eyes. From out in the hall came a mechanical whirring and the rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps. Jean's eyes reopened. All three girls sat back up, looking toward the cell doors. A nervous murmur was coming from the other cells. The footsteps grew closer.

Jean gasped. A larger than life figure moved down the hall, mostly humanoid in appearance in that it had arms, legs and a torso. The thing's body was vaguely transparent, revealing a mass of wires and mechanical parts which emitted a faint pinkish glow. Amidst the workings of its chest and arms, Jean could make out weapons components. The head was merely a stump with no semblance of a neck. A singular eye rotated back and forth, scanning each cell before moving on. The girls stared, horror stricken, as the thing passed.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Betsy asked.

"A Sentinel," Jean replied grimly. "One we haven't seen before."

* * *

Though tired, Jean spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in her bunk. The brackish smell of the place seemed to seep into her pores. There was a constant sound of dripping, muted occasionally by a snore or the sound of one of the inmates weeping. Jean's senses stretched, searching for the Sentinel's presence. She knew it was nearby, and she couldn't get the image of its singular red eye out of her mind. The night stretched on and on. Morning seemed a long time in coming. Finally, the morning klaxon sounded and the girls moved from their bunks.

In the cafeteria, there was no sign of their squad member, Pyro. Gambit was also missing. Jean had made up her mind. There was really no time to wait, especially if her fellow X-Man was in trouble. She followed Squad Three to the prep room, where they replaced their harmless blue slippers for work boots, and then marched out to the construction site. Because Pyro was missing, Jean was reassigned to clearing brush with Moxie. Lorna looked at the pile of reinforcement bar with dismay, and Jean gave the girl a sympathetic smile. In reality, Jean was pleased to work near the forest. It suited her plans. When at last the inhibitors were either turned off or powered to a lower setting, Jean reached out with her telepathy. She searched for Moxie's mind. Though the girl was working right beside her, Jean could feel nothing. Moxie's mind was like a big blank in space. Jean looked at the feline mutant, feeling something strangely familiar prickle her memories.

Moxie looked up from her work, wiping her forearm across her brow. "Some kind of problem, Red?" she asked, somewhat snidely.

Jean shook her head, then glanced around. The guard today was the green-haired woman. Jean didn't spot any Sentinels about. "I'm going," Jean said finally.

Moxie shook her head with a disparaging sigh. "I thought we agreed to wait," she replied.

"We can't. The Brotherhood doesn't know about the Sentinels."

Something flickered in Moxie's eyes: worry. This steeled Jean's resolve. With her telekinesis, she pushed a large palm towards the forest. It moaned and creaked as she pressured it. It seemed just about to give when Jean released it, sending it flying in the opposite direction. The palm snapped and narrowly missed hitting the guard as it fell. Jean bolted into the trees. Her four years of track and field experience were about to pay off. She heard the guard shout, and for a moment, Jean lost her footing. She suddenly felt dizzy and she staggered. She'd all ready run several yards into the jungle, and with her head whirling as it was, she failed to notice the sudden drop off. Jean tumbled down into a ravine, turning somersaults down the slope. She finally rolled to a halt at the bottom, laying face down in noxious mud.

Shaking her head clear, she leapt to her feet and continued to run. Her breath came in controlled bursts as her legs pounded the marshy turf. She effortlessly vaulted over rocks and fallen trees. The ravine veered away from the compound, and after several long minutes, Jean trotted to a halt. There were no sounds of pursuit. She reached out with her telepathy, searching for Avalanche or the Scarlet Witch. She thought she might have heard a buzzing of several mind-voices nearby, but they decreased in volume and eventually died out. Jean looked down at her inhibitor, which had been powered back to full.

She stared down at the inhibitor with growing horror. Why hadn't she used her telekinesis to tear off the device? "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Jean chastised herself, banging the heel of her palm against her forehead repeatedly. What would Scott have said to her for failing to think through her plan? She felt a moment of panic, but forced herself to calm. She could still find the Brotherhood without her powers. Wolverine had taught all the X-Men tracking skills. She would just have to look for signs of their passage. Jean began to start up the opposite bank of the ravine when she heard a soft rattling noise. She looked around, but saw nothing. She hoped it wasn't a snake.

The rattling noise repeated: _Cha-shuck-shuck-shuck_.

Jean put her foot onto the bank and leaned forward to grab at the vegetation to pull herself up. She pushed off the ground, but it gave under her foot and she slid back down into the mud. She sought purchase in another patch of ground. Jean heard the rattle again, this time much closer. The skin on the back of her neck crawled. Jean swallowed dryly and turned.

She wouldn't have seen the thing if it hadn't given another eerie shake. Jean stared, her eyes widening in horror. The thing stood a few feet away, nearly hidden amongst the vegetation of the opposite bank of the ravine. It was a little shorter than her, with thin limbs resembling twisted tree branches. Vines ran up the limbs like sinew. Its torso resembled a hollowed-out stump, leading up to a narrow stem neck. The creature's head was bulbous and gourd-like, it's face a parody of human features in moss, bark and leaves. Two white mushrooms sprouted where eyes should have been. The thing shook its head. _Cha-shuck-shuck-shuck_.

Jean shrieked, a long drawn out scream that sent birds flying from the trees. She paused to take a breath before screaming again. Her knees bent beneath her. Instead of falling, she propelled herself away from the monster. Her scream trailed after her as she ran. The mud at the bottom of the ravine seemed to be getting deeper. It sucked at Jean's boots as she ran. She made another dive for the bank, but the ground was too soft to support her weight. The walls of the ravine grew steeper and more narrow. There came another rattle. The sound was in front of her. Rattling noises then sounded from behind. There were more of the things, the denizens, as Betsy had called them. Jean scrambled at the bank, launching herself bodily at the walls of the ravine. She slid down time and time again.

Don't panic, she told herself as she cast about for a weapon. The rattling noises were getting closer. She could see one of them picking its way down the gorge toward her. It moved in short bursts, causing its head to rattle. Then it would still, and stare at her with inhuman eyes. She closed her mouth and swallowed another scream. She spotted a fist-sized stone and lunged for it. Just then, the earth began to tremble and Jean fell forward. Mud closed down around her wrists and soaked her legs up to the knees. She yanked back, and the mud suddenly released her. She wavered on her knees before falling forward again. The earthquake continued, and dirt began to shift down the slope. Jean found her legs entrenched. She spotted two of the denizens up ahead, hidden amidst the fallen leaves and sticks. They leapt up and away from the crumbling slope and disappeared over the crest of the ravine.

The good news, the denizens were gone. The bad news was that she was sinking. Jean managed to yank one of her arms free, but the rest of her body remained submerged under tumbling earth. She kicked hard with her legs, and suddenly, she felt the soil loosen. The earth shifted swiftly, and she abruptly plummeted downwards, straight through a hole in the ground. Falling dirt followed her as she tumbled through darkness. She landed with a splat in hot smelly mud. Dirt continued to pour down on her from above. She crawled out from under the soil. Eventually, the earth ceased its shaking. On her hands and knees, she shook dirt from her hair. Then she looked up to the only source of light. There was a hole of light above, which seemed to be slowly closing. The light faded, and Jean was left in darkness, listening to dirt clods splashing down into the mud. Warily, Jean stood. Her eyes strained in the darkness. She sloshed through the mud, her arms held before her. She found a wall that curved up and away. It was also strangely warm. As her hands slid along the wall, she came in contact with something hard and metal. It sparked and she jerked her hand away, cradling her hand against her stomach. Her eyes adjusted slowly, and she realized there was a soft glimmer of light coming from the wall. Slim metal struts glowed faintly. The struts criss-crossed in a mesh pattern. Careful not to touch the wall again, she moved slowly down the tunnel. She detected a faint breeze, and she moved toward it. The floor slanted downwards as she walked, and she found the mud grew deeper. Eventually, she was unable to go any further, the mud had risen up to her hips. Jean backtracked.

As she walked, she became conscious of a low thrumming sound. The light grew slightly brighter, and she became more hopeful for escape. She soon found the source of the noise, as well as the slight breeze. The tunnel branched off into two sections. Down one tunnel, a huge exhaust fan spun slowly, drawing air away. The second tunnel provided the meager light. In the greenish glow, Jean could see the wire mesh lining the wet mud walls. The walls appeared to be pulsing slightly. The sight of it made Jean feel squeamish. Jean pursued the source of the light. The floor rose and she finally stepped free of the mud. A soft murmur could be heard over the sound of the fan.

Slowly, Jean crept toward the sound. The sounds resolved themselves into voices, then words.

"We now have five online, sir," said a familiar voice. Trask, Jean thought.

"Is that all?" replied another voice full of scorn. "I'll need far more Sentinels than that to finish my catalog!"

"There's been some evidence of...sabotage...on the line," Trask replied reluctantly.

"You're far too lenient on them," the voice snapped. "Set the Executioners on them."

"The Executioners appear reluctant to apply force," Trask said.

"You insisted we use human guards. The Marauders have proven themselves far more flexible."

Trask's uncomfortable silence spoke volumes. "Two of the inmates bested your Marauders in a fight. Without the use of their powers, mind you."

"Really?" strangely, the voice sounded pleased. "Which two?"

"Allerdyce and the one calling himself Gambit. One of the Executioners brought them to solitary."

"Hm...Leave the elemental, but bring me the energy converter. I would like to find out how that one...functions."

"Shall I leave him at the usual drop off point?"

"Yes. Be sure he is properly restrained before you leave him in the ravine."

Jean had been slowly creeping forward as the two men talked. The last comment twisted Jean's gut. She kept close to the wall, though the sight of it repelled her. The wall slowly curved toward the light, and the tunnel widened. She was able to see strange mechanical apparatus in the larger cavern beyond the tunnel. Tubes and wires draped themselves over large, liquid filled tanks. It appeared to be some sort of storage vault, but for what?

"We've had another runaway," Trask added. "Jean Grey, one of the X-Men." Jean's heart felt as if it had dropped to her knees.

"I wouldn't worry about it," the voice said idly.

"The X-Men shouldn't be taken lightly," Trask insisted.

"Concern yourself with getting more Sentinels online," the voice commanded. "Computer. End communication."

Jean slunk forward, craning her neck to see the source of the voice. She could see a large computer terminal, one that could rival the size of Cerebro. A faint glow silhouetted a tall, thin figure in a white lab coat.

"Greetings, Jean Grey," the man said without turning. Jean felt as if she'd been frozen to the spot. "I am glad to finally make your acquaintance."

He turned slightly, and she could see the profile of his long pallid face. "I am Doctor Milbury. Welcome to my catalog."

With that, he gestured as if making a grand introduction. Jean looked upon the large tanks again. Each was filled with a vaguely human shape. With a gasp of horror, she found she recognized one of the figures. Another Jean Grey hung lifelessly inside a tank.

"A carbon copy, only," Milbury said with mock dismay. "In your case, I find I prefer the original."


	15. Weapon of Choice

Chapter 13: Weapon of Choice

Weapon of Choice. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

_I won't waste it, I won't waste it, I won't waste my love on a nation_

_Everyone's got their own split factions_

_Every pawn will pay it's price_

_I've been digging out in all directions_

_I'll see you through to the after life _

_What is your weapon of choice, _

_What's your weapon of choice _

_There is no weapon to free us all _

Remy's fingers were cramped with the effort of using the small replacement bits to unscrew the tiny screws on his inhibitor. At long last, he was able to remove the outer casing and reveal the inner workings of the device. He paused, carefully considering the little green circuit boards and the various wires and chips. He plucked a few wires loose, but the indicator on the inhibitor continued to read at full power. He shrugged, and then proceeded to smash his wrist repeatedly against the steel leg of his cot.

"Whoa," Remy gasped, and fell forward onto the cold cement floor. He felt the sudden rush as his powers returned to him. The feeling was almost euphoric. He lay on the floor staring at the ceiling for several minutes. He felt, rather than saw, the flow of energy and the untapped potential power in all the things around him. Eventually, he pulled himself to his feet and moved toward the door. He peered out the window, but saw nothing. He braced his fingers in the window well and tried to jiggle the door. He hoped that the screws he'd shoved into the locking mechanism had prevented the deadbolt from being secured, but the door seemed sound. He put his hand to the door. Through it, he could sense the little polymer screws. He pushed a charge through the door and into the screws. Synthetics charged so nice and even; it must have something to do with their neat little molecular bonds. He held the charge for a moment, then stepped back from the door. The screws, laden with explosively charged kinetic energy, detonated with a muffled pop. The deadbolt jammed back into the steel door, which opened slightly with the force of the explosion. He pulled the door open and looked up and down the hall. He cursed softly upon seeing the security camera set at the far end of the hall.

Remy quickly slipped from his cell and slapped the button that would open St. John's cell. The door buzzed, and Remy threw it open. St. John didn't look all that surprised to see Remy standing in the doorway.

"'Ello, Gambit," he said, while cradling the arm that had been broken in the fight with Blockbuster. "I knew y'wouldn't leave an ole pal hangin'."

"I'm almost positive I'm going to regret this later," Remy said. "I'm beginning to think my sense of loyalty is actually a fatal flaw in my character."

"Nothing like spending time in solitary confinement for a little self-reflection."

"Time to skidattle," Remy said, grabbing hold of Pyro's good arm and steering him down the hall. "The freak-show in the armor's bound to be on his way."

"That's where you're wrong," called a voice. A dark figure stepped out from the blind corner at the end of the hall. "The 'freak-show' is all ready here."

The Executioner raised his staff and sent a bolt of energy down the corridor. Remy and St. John dove to the floor just as the bolt arced over their heads. There was an explosive blast from behind them as the bolt struck a wall. The Executioner was no longer using kid-gloves. That blast was lethal.

Remy charged the few bits and screws he had left and sent them flying into the Executioner's masked face. Their opponent was momentarily thrown off guard, unaware that Remy had regained the use of his powers. Remy used the opportunity to gain a few feet on his enemy. The Executioner was ready to fire his weapon again, but Remy kicked it aside. The next blast scorched the nearby wall, blasting loose chunks of cement block.

"Oy!" St. John cried, as he was narrowly missed by the bolt and flying debris.

The Executioner tried to slap Remy aside with the back of his hand. Remy ducked beneath his attacker's arm. Though the armor slowed his opponent, Remy was at a supreme disadvantage. The guard was heavily protected and much stronger. Remy's powers worked better at a distance, but he was loathe to step back into the firing range of the staff. His only defense was his speed and agility. He dove toward the Executioner, a move the larger man hadn't anticipated. Remy twisted slightly to the side, slipping beneath the Executioner's arm that held the staff. His fingers brushed the guard's belt as he passed. The guard turned, following Remy's evasive dive to the floor. He was raising his staff to bring it down on Remy's head when his belt buckle exploded. The Executioner folded over his stomach and let out a 'whoomph!' of pain. Remy sprung from the floor and wrapped his arms around the Executioner's head, blinding him. The Executioner spun, trying to dislodge Remy, who was now clinging to the guard like a monkey.

"Pyro!" Remy cried. "The staff! Grab the staff!"

St. John launched himself at the Executioner's flailing arm and struggled to pull the staff from the guard's grip. He was impeded by his broken arm.

The Executioner charged forward, smashing Remy against the wall with enough force to crack ribs. Remy was forced to release his opponent. Now free, the Executioner swung his arm and sent St. John flying into the opposite wall. The Executioner raised his staff, taking aim at Remy's skull. Just then, the floor gave a powerful shake. The Executioner tottered off balance, and Remy was able to dodge away. The staff struck the wall with a clang. Remy scrambled after a chunk of broken cement, knowing that the guard was about to take another swing at him. He doubted he would have a chance to grab the rock, charge it, turn and throw it at his enemy. He slid the last few inches and seized the broken chunk of cement block. Rock in hand, he turned to see the Executioner taking aim. The end of the staff began to glow as the charge built. The earth trembled again, this time with enough force to shake loose the fluorescent ceiling lights. Walls cracked and the floor buckled. Remy hurled his charged weapon just as the staff fired. Remy closed his eyes and felt the burn of energy on the side of his face and along his neck an shoulder. For an instant, he thought he'd been hit. The roar of an explosion deafened him and the pain was severe. He blacked out for a moment, but then St. John was yanking Remy upright by the front of his coveralls. They jostled against one another as the earthquake continued. Through the sting of sweat and blood in his eyes, Remy spied the Executioner over St. John's shoulder. A portion of the ceiling collapsed, the falling debris drove the Executioner to the ground. The earthquake abruptly ceased, leaving nothing but the sound of cracking brickwork and sputtering lights. As the dust settled, the two escapees found themselves staring at a new figure.

"Who's the loser now?" the figure said snidely(1).

"Avalanche?" Remy bewilderedly asked, as he clutched his bleeding ear.

Avalanche stepped over the wreckage of broken cement block. Both St. John and Remy stood warily, looking at the still form of the Executioner laying on the floor. The guard was partially covered with fallen cement. Remy shifted the debris, revealing the Executioner's head and shoulders. There was a large hole in the front plate of his armor. His chest was a bloody ruin. Remy leaned forward and pulled the cowl from the Executioner's face. It was the Federal Agent, Fred Duncan. There was a trickle of blood running down from his hairline. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling.

"He's dead," Avalanche said needlessly. There was an element of shock and horror in his voice.

"Don't worry," Remy replied. "I'm sure that big bloody hole in his head had nothing to do with the wall falling down on him."

"I didn't kill him! Look at him, he's blown to pieces!" Avalanche said, gesturing to Duncan, then pointing at Remy. "You're the one who killed him!"

"Let's tally the score later, shall we boys?" spoke St. John. He picked up the Executioner's weapon. "I don't think he'll be needing this anymore."

A squawking noise erupted from the Executioner, causing all three to startle. A tinny voice called: "Duncan, are you there? Duncan, do you copy?"

Remy pulled a two-way radio from Duncan's belt. "Duncan here," Remy said, doing his best to imitate the grim intonation of the Executioner's voice.

"Problem in the girl's wing," the harried voice at the other end said. "I can't get in! The doors seem to be jammed. I think one of the mutants is free!" There was a long pause, the two-way radio reported nothing but static. "Harpoon gives report that there's trouble in the boy's wing too! Some kind of...of a what?...a blue blur?!...opening the cell doors?!"

Remy and St. John looked at Avalanche, who crossed his arms over his chest. There was a satisfied smile on his face.

* * *

Moxie was laying on her stomach in her bunk, looking out into the hallway. Her chin rested on her crossed arms and the tip of her tail flicked. 

"Do you suppose Jean got away?" asked her cellmate, Betsy. Moxie glanced at the younger girl, who was rubbing her sore feet.

"I doubt it," Moxie replied bluntly. She sighed impatiently at Betsy's expression of dismay. "If she'd waited like I asked..."

"You seem so sure that this Brotherhood is going to rescue us," Betsy said.

"Maybe not rescue us, per se," Moxie replied. "But allow us the opportunity to rescue ourselves."

The earth gave a faint tremble.

"Another earthquake?" Betsy asked, holding fast to the steel bed frame.

"A localized one," Moxie replied, hopping down from the bunk. She took Betsy by the arm and led her to the back of the cell. "Any moment now," she said mostly to herself.

Betsy looked from Moxie to the cell door. She could still feel the faint trembling of the earth through the thin soles of her slippers. Just then, the bars of the cell doors were seized by a strange blue light. The bars twisted into strange shapes before the door was flung aside by the unknown force. Girls shouted in fear down the length of the hall. Betsy shrank back from the blue glow, which had now possessed the bunks, causing them to rattle against their bolts. The taps in the sink began blasting forth water and the toilet erupted.

Moxie once again took hold of Betsy. "Time to go," she said.

"What's going on?!" Betsy cried as they darted from the cell. Up and down the hall, the other cell doors had been thrown aside with bent and twisted bars. A young woman was proceeding casually down the center of the hall. She was tall, with close-cropped black and red dyed hair. She was dressed in a long red jacket.

"Wanda," called Moxie.

Wanda had been pausing at each open cell door, examining each occupant. Failing to find what she was looking for, she continued to the next cell.

"Wanda!" Moxie called louder.

The girl paused, then cautiously approached Moxie and Betsy. "Do I know you?" the Scarlet Witch asked.

Moxie smiled grimly. "I know you," was all she replied, "and the Brotherhood."

This gave the Scarlet Witch pause. "Do you?" she asked, her voice laden with suspicion. She raised one of her hands, flexing her fingers in a threatening manner. "Then maybe you know where the Toad is...?"

Girls were peering out of their cells, too afraid to leave but too curious to stay put.

"I do," Moxie replied. "A friend was keeping an eye on him. We'll get to him eventually." She lifted Betsy's right arm, revealing the power inhibitor around her wrist. "But right now, we have to turn these off. Then we'll really see some fireworks."

Wanda stared for a moment, then nodded slowly. "All right, how do we do that?"

"Follow me," Moxie replied. She turned to the other girls. "All of you, follow me!"

Nearly a dozen confused girls trailed after the feline mutant. After all, she seemed to be the only one who knew what was going on around here.

* * *

Episode 34, The Stuff of Villains: Gambit asks the Brotherhood why they are a such a bunch of losers.

Author's Note: I'm nearly done with this story. I should be posting with some regularity. Thanks to all who have added me to your favorites, who've watched this story, and who've left me great comments. I really appreciate the encouragement. See ya in Chapter 14!


	16. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

Chapter 14: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, The Flaming Lips

_Those evil-natured robots_

_they're programmed to destroy us_

_she's gotta be strong to fight them_

_so she's taking lots of vitamins_

_'Cause she knows that_

_it'd be tragic_

_if those evil robots win_

_I know she can beat them_

_Oh, Yoshimi, they don't believe me_

_but you won't let those robots defeat me_

The X-Jet roared over the open ocean, close enough to the waves to cause a wake in passing. The Velocity helicopter followed close behind. In the cockpit of the X-Jet, Cerebro continued to track the mutant signatures it had detected the previous day. Alarmingly, the mutant signatures had disappeared during the night. They reappeared early in the morning, and the X-Jet had to change its trajectory. Overnight, the mutants' location had moved several miles toward the African coastline. Most disturbingly, Jean's signature had appeared briefly, only to disappear an hour later. It was midday, and with luck they still had several hours before the signatures would disappear again. They were fast closing in on Jean's last reported location.

Cyclops was in the pilot's seat, with Nightcrawler as co-pilot. Storm stood between the two younger X-Men, her hand braced on the headrest of Nightcrawler's seat. She preferred to remain in the cockpit, looking out the large windscreen, rather than remain in the close quarters of the passenger cabin. Behind her, Rogue sat in the first row of passenger seats, staring fixedly forward. Her finger tapped impatiently on the armrest. The rest of the cabin was empty.

"We're approaching a large land mass," Cyclops said, looking at the radar. "According to the aeronautical chart, there shouldn't be anything out here."

"We should have visual in a moment," replied Wolverine through the radio. He was piloting the Velocity helicopter, and was accompanied by Shadowcat and Colossus.

"Right," Cyclops replied. "If Cerebro's readouts are correct, then we should be approaching the unregistered mutants' location. Wolverine, I'm going to pass over the island and come back around. I want you to scout ahead. Maintain a holding pattern over the island."

"Roger," Wolverine replied.

Cyclops gained altitude, pressing everyone back into their seats. Storm continued to grip the back of Nightcrawler's chair. A green speck appeared on the horizon and quickly grew into a sizable island. The island was surrounded by rocky shorelines and covered in verdant green jungle. Forceful waves crashed along the coast, which rose up out of the waves like the prow of a ship. As the X-Jet passed, the passengers peered out of the windows for a better look. The island appeared largely uninhabited.

"Registered Mutant Signature Detected," Cerebro chimed. "Lance Alvers."

Cyclops looked at the mini-Cerebro unit, then tapped it with his fingers as if it were broken.

"Registered Mutant Signature Detected," Cerebro said again. "Wanda Maximoff."

"Registered Mutant Signature Detected: Pietro Maximoff."

Cyclops and Nightcrawler shared a look. "What the heck are those jokers doing here?" Cyclops asked.

"Registered Mutant Signature Detected: Remy LeBeau."

Rogue unfastened her safety belt and moved toward the cockpit. "What's goin' on?" she asked. "Cerebro found the Brotherhood? And Remy?"

Cyclops turned the X-Jet in a steady curve over the island. In passing, they spotted a glimmer of brightness amongst the trees.

"Wolverine, do you see that?" Cyclops asked.

"Yeah, looks like a few buildings...I think I see a landing strip."

"Cerebro is pulling up multiple mutant signatures. Something is going on down there," Cyclops continued.

"We're approaching the base now," Wolverine said. "Looks like there's some people down below, running out of the buildings."

Cyclops turned the X-Jet around a second time. They could now see the Velocity approaching the encampment, its rotors whirring as it banked over the trees.

"Looks like we've got a coupla bogeys," Wolverine said.

"Uh oh," they could hear Kitty say through the radio.

Two forms shot out from one of the low buildings. They both aimed themselves at the Velocity.

"Logan!" Storm cried. "Incoming!"

"I got 'em, Storm," Wolverine growled.

"What are those things!?" Nightcrawler exclaimed. "Rockets?"

"No, I---," Cyclops began, before gasping. The two forms slowed their ascent and flanked the Velocity. At first appearance, the main body of the projectiles seemed torpedo shaped. When the forms slowed, limb-like structures became evident. The arm-like shapes resolved into twin cannons and they aimed at the Velocity. "Sentinels!" Cyclops cried.

The Velocity performed an evasive maneuver, avoiding the first barrage of enemy fire. The second Sentinel discharged a yellow-white energy pulse. This time, the Velocity was unable to avoid the blast. The rear rotor was struck, and the body of the Velocity swung around.

The passengers in the X-Jet shared a collective cry of dismay. The radio crackled, and Cyclops jabbed at the controls, crying: "Logan, Logan!" The Velocity continued a downward spiral towards the forest. One of the Sentinels turned in the air, setting its sights on the X-Jet.

"We've got to get down there," Cyclops said grimly, turning the X-Jet away from the encampment and the encroaching Sentinel.

"But how," Rogue asked, "with those things on our tail?"

"I've got to draw fire away from those people in the base," Cyclops said. "Nightcrawler, I need you to 'port Rogue and Storm down."

"What?!" Nightcrawler cried. "You're crazy! We're going too fast. We'll totally splat!"

"Listen to me," Cyclops said, his stoic calm a contrast to Nightcrawler's overreaction. "'Port about fifty yards or so above the encampment. Storm will use her winds to slow your descent. Storm?"

Storm nodded. "I can do this," she replied.

"You sound more like you're tryin' to reassure yourself," Rogue said cryptically.

"I'm going over again," Cyclops said. "Get ready."

Nightcrawler stood and took his teammates' hands. "Hold on tight," he said nervously.

"Go!" Cyclops shouted.

Nightcrawler, Rogue and Storm vanished in a flash of light and puff of brimstone. Then the Sentinel appeared before the windscreen, its arms held out, rockets loading into place. Cyclops flipped open the guard covering the X-Jet's missile firing mechanism. He held his finger over the switch.

"Eat heat-seeking missiles, jerkface," Cyclops said, then fired.

* * *

"How did you know where we were?" Gambit asked. They were picking their way down the darkened hallway of the prison, heading for the exit.

"We saw you pulled in here by that guard, when we were hiding in the trees," Avalanche replied, as they turned a corner.

"That was yesterday!" Pyro exclaimed. "What took you so long?"

"We had to go back and find Pietro," Avalanche said. He didn't sound happy about it.

At the end of the hallway was an open door. Afternoon light slanted through it.

"Where's Dukes, and the kid...Tolansky?" Gambit asked.

"I was hoping you knew," replied Avalanche.

"What, you mean the little bug-eyed slimeball?" Pyro asked suddenly. "I've seen him. He's long gone."

Avalanche turned at the door. "Where'd he go?"

"Into the jungle, mate," Pyro pointed out the door towards the trees. "No doubt he's been gobbled by the natives by now."

Avalanche looked at Pyro, dumbstruck. "What natives? We've been out in the jungle all this time, and we haven't seen a soul."

"Consider yourselves lucky, then," Pyro said. "Wot goes in, does not come back out."

"We'll worry about him later," Gambit said. "Right now, we've got to find Jean and get someplace safe so we can figure out a gameplan."

"I saw Jean," Avalanche said. "She's working with Trask!"

Pyro rolled his eyes. "No, ya drongo. We're all prisoners!" He held up the inhibitor locked around his wrist. "We've got no powers. Well, save Gambit here. How'd you do it, by the way?"

Gambit shook his head, his eyes fixed on the sky. "We'll have a chit-chat later. Look!"

He pointed skyward. A black winged-helicopter was spiraling down out of the sky, trailing smoke.

"Isn't that your bird?" Avalanche asked. "The Velocity?"

"It's not exactly your average helicopter-slash-jet thingy, now is it?" Gambit replied.

"Lookout!" Pyro cried.

A vaguely human-shaped robot rocketed over the building, soaring toward the descending Velocity.

"What the---," Gambit began. "Oh, _now_ what?"

"C'mon," Avalanche said, grabbing hold of Gambit's arm. "I've got to 'rend-ay-voo' with Wanda. Or whatever."

He began to run toward the tree line. Gambit followed.

"I'm not going in there!" Pyro cried.

"Don't be such a pussy!" Avalanche yelled over his shoulder. "There's nothing to be afraid of!"

"What about those guys?" Gambit asked, pointing towards the forest. "Should we be afraid of them?" A line of strange looking creatures had appeared, standing sentry at the edge of the forest. They looked as though they were made out of sticks and bark.

Avalanche came to a screeching halt. "Run away!" he cried, then ran in the opposite direction.

"You need to work on your leadership skills," Gambit said, shaking his head. "Cyclops would never scream: 'Run Away!'" The three young men ran back toward the encampment and down an alley between two of the buildings. The were met by a group of mutants heading toward them. The female prisoners were rounding the corner at the end of the alley. Wanda and two other girls were at the head of the group.

"Avalanche!" Wanda cried. "Where's Pietro?"

A silvery-blue form streaked around from behind. It zipped past Avalanche, Gambit and Pyro and came to an abrupt halt before the female prisoners. "Hello ladies," Quicksilver said, tipping an imaginary hat.

Wanda shoved her brother.

"Did you free the male prisoners?" a feline mutant asked Quicksilver.

"Uh, well, yeah," Pietro said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "No sign of Toad, though."

A second group of prisoners appeared. They trotted out from behind the building, looking both confused and frightened.

"We're going to turn off the inhibitors," the feline mutant continued. "You lot, follow the speed-freak. Head toward the back of the compound. Hide in the hangar until we get these things turned off." She gestured to several of the milling prisoners. "You two," she pointed at a dark-skinned woman and an enormous hulk of a man. "Head toward that downed helicopter. Wanda, go with them."

Gambit was moving through the mass of gathered bodies. He found Betsy amongst them. "Where's Jean?" he asked her. "Red hair, green eyes...Real pretty."

Betsy shook her head. "Jean ran into the jungle," she said sadly. "Moxie thinks she knows where we can find her, though."

Gambit turned to look at the girl Betsy was referring to. The feline mutant was approaching him. "Betsy, Lorna...you three...come with me."

"Why should we follow you?" Avalanche griped.

"I know where the controls to the inhibitors are," Moxie replied. "We need our powers if we're going to defend ourselves."

Gambit gave Moxie a scrutinizing look. "Who _are_ you?"

"Introductions can wait, I think," Pyro said, tugging at Gambit's sleeve.

A figure appeared at the end of the alley.

"The Executioner!" Gambit cried.

"Wait! I thought we just got rid of that guy!" Pyro cried.

"There's two of them!" Gambit replied.

The Executioner was joined by four familiar figures. The black-garbed mutant guards proceeded down the alleyway towards them.

"Look," Gambit said, turning to Moxie. "You girls find the controls for the inhibitors. We'll stay and hold off the guards."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Betsy said, putting her hands on her slim hips. "Us '_girls_'?"

Moxie nodded. "Fine," she said before trotting off, the green-haired girl called Lorna followed timidly after.

"I'm staying," Betsy announced.

"Suit yourself," Gambit shrugged as he turned to face the guards.

Pyro smirked and twirled his pilfered staff. He took aim at Blockbuster. "Looks like it'll be a hot time in the old town tonight!" The weapon discharged, striking the brute in the chest. Seeing her comrade fall, the snake-like woman shrieked in fury and raised her arms. Then the world turned upside-down.


	17. 32 Flavors

Chapter 15: 32 Flavors

32 Flavors, Ani Difranco

_God help you if you are an ugly girl_

_course too pretty is also your doom_

_'cause everyone harbors a secret hatred_

_for the prettiest girl in the room_

_and God help you if you are a phoenix_

_and you dare to rise up from the ash_

_a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy_

_while you are just flying past_

When Jean came to, she found herself dangling by a harness, trapped inside a glass tank. The walls of the tank were blurred with condensation, but through the glass, she could see the sinister form of Doctor Milbury. Jean tugged at the harness which was holding her upright. Her face was obscured by a respirator. She moved to pull it away when Milbury spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said malevolently. He gestured downward, and Jean looked at her feet.

She saw that her shoes were gone, and that her bare feet were standing in a puddle of gelatinous liquid. The liquid was slowly filling the tank. Jean felt her toes go numb, and she let out a shriek.

"Let me go!" she screamed, kicking out at the glass walls. "Help! Help me!"

The doctor laughed cruelly. "There's no one to hear you, my dear. Save for my other guests...and they certainly are in no position to help you."

Jean looked to her left. The tank beside hers contained the limp form of Todd Tolansky. She gasped. Todd waved weakly at her. "Hiya," he said blearily.

"What do you want?" Jean cried at Milbury. "What is all this?"

The doctor walked slowly to a strange device, a knowing smile on his face. He was holding a vial of red liquid, which Jean assumed was blood. The strange device was a tall transparent tube set upright in the floor. It too was filled with a liquid. The liquid was a dull putty color. Thin hoses ran from the base of the tube. The hoses ended at a console, where several other blood-filled vials awaited in a centrifuge.

"What I want?" the doctor mused. He seemed pleased to have a captive audience. "Well, since you asked...Years ago, I discovered the existence of mutants. People who were more than human. _Super_human. I confess, as a base human, I find myself somewhat jealous of your amazing abilities. I thought it impossible for someone such as myself to activate the accelerated x-factor that would make me a mutant. But then Apocalypse ascended."

Jean's blood went cold. Doctor Milbury took the vial of blood and affixed it to a tube on the console. "Apocalypse planned to turn regular humans into mutants, to force them to evolve," Milbury continued. "He was a catalyst in many ways. First, he provided me with the inspiration and the methodology to turn regular human beings into mutants. Secondly, he created such a fervor of mutant hatred," he paused and looked about the chamber as if seeing it for the first time, "he made all this possible." Doctor Milbury continued to attach the vials to their respective tubes. "I hope to meet Apocalypse some day, have him recognize my work, following in his footsteps. And we will meet..._as equals_."

Milbury typed in a sequence of keystrokes on the console and the vials of blood slowly drained. Jean watched as the blood flowed down the tubes toward the central container. The putty-colored liquid began to move.

"Mister, you're nuts," Jean said, punctuating her statement with another kick. The soupy liquid in her tank had risen to her knees. "What do you want me for? You've got your samples, now let me go!"

Doctor Milbury shook his head in mock sadness. "Jean Grey. I'm afraid I can't do that. My associate has foretold the potential in your genes. Such great power. And yet, you've failed to reach that potential. I wonder why?" he paused, considering her with his hand on his chin. "Perhaps because you are young yet. Perhaps the delay is due to some mental block. In any case, I hope to tap that potential."

Jean yanked on the harness again, this time with more fury. The liquid in the tank continued to rise. Cold numbness crept up her legs.

There was a computerized chime, and Bolivar Trask's face appeared on a large computer monitor. "Milbury!" Trask shouted.

Doctor Milbury turned away from taunting Jean to stare at Trask's image. "What is it?" he snapped impatiently.

"We're having some problems topside! The mutants have escaped!" Trask shouted. "Two aircraft have been spotted in the area, and the Sentinels have been deployed!"

"Damn it, Trask. Where are the Marauders?"

"They've cornered some of the escapees," Trask said.

From outside the chamber came a loud clang and the squeal of metal on metal. "What on earth is that..?" Milbury turned from the monitor. Jean realized the thrumming sound from the exhaust fan had suddenly ceased.

"I can't locate one of the Executioners!" Trask continued, then looked at something off-camera. His expression became even more alarmed.

"Take care of it," Milbury snapped. "I have my own problems to deal with."

Trask had leapt to his feet. "Who are---wait!" he cried.

"The controls for the inhibitors, Trask..." a cool female voice said from beyond the camera frame.

"You?!" Trask cried. "No! Stay back!"

A blue and black blur streaked across the camera. The camera image jostled, then canted to the side. The monitor abruptly went black.

Outside the cavern, something heavy was moving down the tunnel. There was a groaning sound, and then the large metal fan tumbled into the chamber. It landed with a loud crash. Behind it stood the Blob. Jean and Doctor Milbury looked at him with their mouths agape.

"Jean?" Blob exclaimed.

"Hiya," Todd said again, and waved.

Blob's attention turned from Jean to Todd. "Hey, what's going on here?" he said slowly. He looked at Doctor Milbury. "Who're you?"

"Stay where you are!" commanded Milbury. He reached for something under the console and produced a large rifle.

Blob gave the doctor a critical look and wiped slime from his shoulders. He was unperturbed at the sight of the weapon.

"Blob! Help!" Jean screamed, banging on the walls of her tank. The liquid had risen to her chest.

Blob moved toward the holding tank and Milbury fired his weapon. The rifle emitted an energy bolt which scored Blob's chest. Blob let out a yowl of pain. "Hey! That _hurt_!" he cried, then seized the nearest object, which happened to be the strange apparatus with the putty colored liquid inside.

"No!" Milbury yelled. "Don't touch that!"

Blob let out a grunt of effort and hefted the container over his head. The tubes snapped free, dripping liquid. Blob hurled the container at Milbury. It landed with a crash just in front of the doctor, who scrambled backwards. The putty-colored liquid sloshed out, and the doctor was deluged with the container's contents. Doctor Milbury collapsed. The liquid seemed to be interacting with his flesh. He let out of shriek of pain.

Blob marched over to the tanks holding Jean and Toad. He was about to land a heavy fist against the tank when the earth shuddered. Jean sloshed back and forth in her tank, the restraints yanking against her shoulders. The overhead lights swung and spluttered. The monitor overturned with a smash, pulling live wires down behind it. Brown water began to rush across the floor. The gelatinous liquid had crept up to Jean's neck, and she cried out in panic. The large light fixtures began to tumble from the ceiling, smashing onto the floor and onto the tanks in loud, spark-filled bursts. The last remaining light fell, pulling down wires and tubes as it plummeted. Then, there was darkness.

* * *

The alley seemed to elongate, then twist, and the pavement beneath their feet began to ripple. Gambit kept his footing, while the others dropped to their knees or staggered into walls. He'd been handling vertigo for the last few days, this was nothing new. Pyro had fallen into the wall, and was retching, partly from the dizziness but mostly from the pain in his broken arm. Avalanche was on his hands and knees. Gambit hoped he wouldn't try using his powers, it would only add to the confusion. The cute little girl with the athletic build was wobbling back and forth, as if trying to walk on a trampoline. The four guards began to move forward, unaffected by the topsy-turvy world.

The source of the turmoil seemed to be emanating from the green-haired woman, who stood with her arms braced at her sides, hands fisted with effort. Gambit closed his eyes, still feeling the world whirl around him. He took two steps forward, then several more as he gained confidence. When he reopened his eyes, he saw that Harpoon was nearly upon him, bearing the weapon for which he was named. Harpoon was pulling back his arm, readying to throw the weapon, which was now glowing green. Gambit had a charged chunk of rock in his hand, which he lobbed, grenade-like at the guards. Harpoon smirked as Gambit's projectile flew over his head, missing him by a wide margin. Then he let fly with his spear.

Gambit grabbed Betsy and bore her to the ground as the harpoon pierced a nearby wall and exploded. Gambit's own weapon had detonated, and he was pleased to note it had hit home. The sensation of vertigo abruptly ceased. When Gambit looked up, he saw that the green-haired woman had been struck aside by the charged rock. The mutant Harpoon was dangerously close, another spear in hand, aiming to skewer both Gambit and Betsy. A bright yellow blast knocked him into the wall. Pyro had regained his footing and was now wielding the recently-deceased Executioner's staff. Avalanche had taken point and was causing the earth before him to shake. The pavement rippled like ocean waves, driving the guards back. Both Gambit and Pyro traded fire with the Executioner; Gambit hurling charged rocks and Pyro firing bursts from the staff. With Avalanche leading, they forced the guards back out of the alley. They pursued the guards out into the empty construction site beyond the buildings. The guards were reforming their ranks. The large woman, Arclight, was now flanked by Harpoon and Blockbuster, the Executioner just behind. For some reason, the male guards were backing away while Arclight remained steadfastly in place. She was grimacing, which Gambit supposed was her version of a smile. The shaking earth didn't seem to effect her all that much. She held her ground, then raised her fists over her head and brought them to the ground with a smash. There was a bright flash of light and the ground heaved back in Avalanche's direction. The force of the earthquake sent him flying straight up into the air. He squalled and landed flat on his back. Arclight roared and ran at the fallen Avalanche, fist raised.

Gambit didn't have a chance to see what happened next. Harpoon was hurling charged missiles in his direction. Gambit dodged and weaved between the flying spears, trying to avoid the blasts that nearly knocked him from his feet. Surely the man would run out of things to throw, he thought. Gambit himself had run out of ammunition and was sorely missing his playing cards. He executed a back flip, then was forced to dodge to the side as another spear struck the ground where his toes had just been. The force of the blast sent him rolling across the pavement. He sprung to his feet and ran forward, trying to get out of Harpoon's throwing range. Harpoon pulled a spear from the pack on his back and swung it at Gambit. The weapon whispered through the air. Gambit grabbed the spear as it passed, then drove his heel into Harpoon's gut. Harpoon was forced to release the weapon. Gambit twirled the spear like a staff, then brought the blunt end down onto Harpoon's head. Harpoon dropped to his knees, but lunged forward, his arms wrapping around Gambit's waist. Gambit was knocked to the ground, and the harpoon went spinning away. Gambit gasped; he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Harpoon rose up, a new spear in hand. He held it over his head, aiming to gut Gambit with the sharpened point. Over Harpoon's shoulder, a strange sight caught Gambit's eye.

Three bodies were falling from the sky. Not falling, he realized, but floating. The tallest of the three figures raised her hands to the sky. There was a flare of blue-white light and a sharp crack. Gambit felt an intense flash of heat and smelled the stink of ozone. Harpoon's body went rigid and he shrieked. His spear had been struck by lightning. Harpoon collapsed and lay twitching on the concrete, his uniform smoldering.

Storm touched down a few yards away. "Gambit!" she cried. "Are you all right?"

Gambit climbed to his feet. He must have looked much worse than he felt, with blood trickling down one side of his head, a black eye he'd been given ages ago during the fight at the University, and his clothing scorched and torn. However, he'd improved quite a bit after regaining his powers.

Nearest the buildings, Arclight and Avalanche were trading punches, each punctuated by the rumble of trembling earth and bright flashes of light. Avalanche was standing, but only barely. Arclight had the advantage of weight behind her heavy punches. The ground around them was wrought with fissures and broken cement. The buildings behind them cracked, broken bricks dropped onto the pavement.

A little ways off, a pile of brush erupted into flame. For an instant, it seemed as if Pyro had regained his powers. However, it was the Executioner's staff he wielded which had caused the fire. Pyro had aimed his staff at the Executioner, only to find that the blasts had little effect on the guard's armored form. Undeterred, Pyro began blasting everything in the nearby vicinity. He laughed madly as he did so. Chunks of concrete blew in all directions. Bags of dry concrete exploded into puffs of gray smoke. A haze hung over the entire scene. Unlike the Executioner, Pyro was not afforded the protection of heavy armor. He was struck in the thigh with a bolt from his opponent's weapon. The Executioner, hiding behind a stack of bundled rebar, aimed his staff at Pyro. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and smoke, and the blue-furred form of Nightcrawler appeared, Rogue at his side

"Yoink!"(1) Nightcrawler said, grabbing the staff. To the guard's surprise, the staff and the two mutants vanished just as quickly as they had appeared. 

Betsy was faring well against her opponent, Blockbuster, despite her diminutive size. She flipped and arced effortlessly through the air, slipping beneath Blockbuster's swinging arms and clumsy kicks. She launched herself into the air and flipped over his shoulders, treating Blockbuster as if he were a pommel horse. She landed on the ground behind him and dealt him two swift punches to the kidneys. Blockbuster roared, more irritated than injured, and spun towards his opponent. Betsy danced away on her toes, looking like the world's most deadly ballerina.

Blockbuster continued to swing at his opponent, this time cracking his fists against the pavement. Betsy stumbled a bit on some fallen debris and twisted her leg. Blockbuster's eyes widened, seeing an opening for attack; his mouth a cruel hook of a smile. Another clap of air signaled Nightcrawler's arrival. He and Rogue now appeared on each of Blockbuster's shoulders. Nightcrawler tossed the stolen staff to Betsy while Rogue clamped a bare hand down on Blockbuster's bald head. Nightcrawler once again vanished, leaving Rogue behind. Rogue vaulted off Blockbuster's shoulder and landed behind him. Betsy's expression had transformed into unholy glee as she depressed the button on the staff to fire a bolt at Blockbuster's chest. The huge guard toppled backwards. Rogue seized him by the back of his uniform and launched Blockbuster over her head with her newly acquired strength. Blockbuster landed face-first in a pile of cement blocks.

Nearest the alleyway, Arclight had finally knocked Avalanche to the ground. She raised her booted foot, aiming to bring it down on her fallen opponent's head. Nightcrawler reappeared for an instant, grabbed Arclight by the belt, and the pair vanished. When Nightcrawler's portal reopened, he was above the water tower on the roof of the nearby building. He dropped Arclight and vanished once again. Arclight shrieked as she dropped through the top of the water tower with a splash.

With the exception of the Executioner, it seemed as if the guards had been defeated. Then the double doors of the assembly warehouse opened. Three partially assembled Sentinels appeared in the open doorway. The X-Men, including Avalanche, Betsy and Pyro, regrouped some distance away.

"There's not any more of you comin'?" Pyro asked Storm.

"I am afraid not."

Avalanche wiped the back of his hand across his bloody mouth. "Good. More for us then." He stretched out his arms and then the earth cracked in two.

* * *

(1): Yoink

1. An exclamation that, when uttered in conjunction with taking an object, immediately transfers ownership from the original owner to the person using the word regardless of previous property rights.

2. A phrase appearing often in "The Simpsons" television program used to verbally indicate one has taken something from another and fled.

_"Hey, great science project, Lisa. Yoink!"_


	18. Hunting for Witches

Chapter 16: Hunting for Witches

Hunting for Witches, Bloc Party

_Nineteen-nineties, optimistic as a teen_

_But now it's terror, airplanes crash into towers_

_The daily mail says: "The enemy is among us!"_

_"Taking our women and taking our jobs"_

_All reasonable thought is being drowned out_

_By the non-stop baying, baying for blood_

_So I go hunting for witches_

_Go hunting for witches_

_Heads are going to roll_

_So I go hunting_

"This place gives me the creeps," Guido said, as he brushed aside a large fern. "I don't think we're supposed to be in here."

"Of course not," Joanna replied. "We're prisoners. We're supposed to be in our cells. You don't want to go back, do you?"

"No."

"Well, me neither," Joanna replied stubbornly.

"This way, you two!" called the Scarlet Witch from up ahead. She was using her powers to whack away the heavy underbrush. They'd gone several yards into the jungle, heading towards where they'd last seen the X-Men's helicopter, The Velocity.

"I don't think you should talk so loud," Joanna said, in what she thought was a hushed undertone. In fact, she was talking quite loudly.

"What're you so afraid of?" the Scarlet Witch asked, mercilessly smashing aside a tree.

"I've heard there's things out here," Joanna replied.

"The denizens," Guido added.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen any denizens or anything else in this jungle," the Scarlet Witch said blithely.

"Are you one of the X-Men?" Guido asked.

The Scarlet Witch made a derisive noise. "Of course not!"

"Well, you're wearing a costume," Joanna said.

"I'm not!" the Scarlet Witch came to a halt and turned around. Her long red jacket flared out around her legs. "This is how I dress!"

Guido and Joanna stared at her critically.

"Let's just go!" the Scarlet Witch huffed. "I think the helicopter is over this way."

Guido pushed aside a palm and peered up through the clerestory. They spotted a trail of smoke through the leaves. "We're close!" Guido said excitedly.

The trio hopped over some fallen trees and found the Velocity down in a small depression. Smoke was rising from a hole in the tail end of the helicopter. The three slid down the small bank towards the aircraft.

"Bleah," Guido said, raising his foot to look at the mud caked on his shoe.

The mud was slightly alarming to the Scarlet Witch. She'd seen Blob get sucked into similar mud almost instantly. She hoped they wouldn't share the same fate.

"Hey!" she called out to the downed aircraft. "Hey, is anybody alive in there?"

Her answer came when Shadowcat phased through the side panel of the Velocity, followed by Wolverine and Colossus. Wolverine landed with a snarl, baring his claws at the Scarlet Witch and the two unfamiliar mutants. Both Guido and Joanna were rather imposing.

"Hey, we're supposed to be rescuing you!" the Scarlet Witch cried, raising her hands threateningly.

"Oh, gross," Shadowcat said, diffusing the tension. "What am I standing in?"

"It appears our transport is stuck," Colossus said, turning to the Velocity. He transformed into his armored form. Silver metal slid over his skin. He walked to the front of the helicopter and pushed.

The Velocity made a disconcerting groaning noise.

"Hey, now careful with that!" Wolverine said.

"We can help!" Guido said.

"We can?" Joanna asked cynically.

Guido walked forward and braced himself against one of the helicopter's wings. Joanna sighed, and walked around to the opposite side, taking hold of the other wing.

"On three!" Guido said.

Wolverine watched, somewhat horrified, as the three hefted the helicopter. He offered helpful words such as: "Watch it! Be careful! You're scratching the paint!"

The three young mutants groaned with effort, Colossus taking much of the weight while the other two mutants guided the helicopter to higher ground. When they had pulled free of the mud, they set the vehicle down on the ground. Joanna and Guido collapsed, breathless from the effort.

Colossus returned to his more human form and dusted his hands off, looking 'round to make sure that Shadowcat had been impressed. She was picking mud off her boot with a stick. Wolverine and the Scarlet Witch trudged up the side of the depression.

"What happened?" the Scarlet Witch asked. "Why did you crash?"

"We were attacked by a Sentinel," Wolverine replied, scanning the trees. "Where are we?"

"More importantly, what is _that_?" Shadowcat asked, pointing with her stick.

A smallish figure hunched at the edge of the depression. It cocked its head, giving a short rattle.

"It's a denizen!" Guido said, terrified of the small creature, despite his enormous size.

Wolverine sniffed the air. "It doesn't have a scent," he replied. "All I smell is trees and mud."

The thing rattled again. It was answered by several other rattling noises. The denizens carefully crept out of the jungle. Some walked hunched over, others on their hands and knees. The group of mutants realized they were surrounded. One of the denizens suddenly leapt and everyone ducked instinctively. It landed with a thunk on the Velocity. It promptly began yanking on one of the rotor blades. The other creatures moved forward, leaping upon the helicopter, rattling with fury. They began to strike the aircraft and yank on the panels.

"Hey! Hey quit that!" Wolverine cried, trying to wave them off. The creatures began pelting Wolverine with sticks. He once again bared his claws. The creatures stopped as one, turning to look with their strange eyes at Wolverine. He growled at them. "Go on, get off!"

One of the creatures pointed, and suddenly, Wolverine was inundated in falling bodies.

"Mister Logan!" Shadowcat cried.

Colossus moved forward, his body turning to steel. This instantly attracted the attention of the denizens. Several broke away to attack Colossus. Wolverine was growling and slashing at the creatures. They lost limbs, but were heedless of injury. More denizens were leaping from the forest.

Guido cried out as one of the tree-like monsters clawed at his mouth. The denizen seemed determined to rip Guido's braces from his teeth. Another darted at Shadowcat, snatched her watch, and then ran off into the forest. The Scarlet Witch ducked, trying to avoid one of the monsters as it tried to rip her earrings from her ears. Joanna grabbed a pair of the creatures and hurled them into the forest. They only returned a moment later.

The trees above began to shake in a strong breeze. There was a high-pitched whine of an engine. Amidst the scuffle, the group of mutants was able to look up. One of the Sentinels had appeared, the propulsion system in its feet shredding the overhead vegetation. It emitted a blast of energy that burned through many of the running denizens. Their limbs curled and withered in the flames. The mutants scrambled away from the attack.

The Sentinel raised one of its arms. The outer casing along the length of the limb opened with a mechanical hiss, revealing a pair of missiles. The limb jerked back twice as the missiles deployed. The Scarlet Witch raised her hands and concentrated. The missiles swerved away and arced back into the air. The Sentinel dove, evading its own missiles, which crashed together and exploded. The mutants ran for the cover of the trees, drawing fire away from the helicopter. It was the only means for their escape.

A panel opened in the Sentinel's chest plate, revealing a dark cavity. A bright blue charge built in the cavity, then fired. Trees and vegetation were blasted away, leaving stumps and smoking ruin. The denizens fled from the flames, helpless against the robot's onslaught. The Scarlet Witch touched her bleeding ear. Her ankh earring was gone, along with the denizens who attacked her. The turmoil was becoming too much for her to handle. She felt herself slipping back into the instability that had plagued her for all of her young life. She aimed hex after hex at the attacking Sentinel. Uprooted trees threw themselves at the robot. The weapons system in the Sentinel continued to misfire. Lasers strafed the ground haphazardly. The scene was chaos, which only served to amplify the Scarlet Witch's disquiet. She screamed and clutched at her head while tearing at her hair.

The others dodged the flying debris. "Wanda!" Shadowcat cried. "Stop!"

They realized it was hopeless. The Scarlet Witch was beyond listening. Her mad hexes were forcing the Sentinel dangerously close to the Velocity. Shadowcat grabbed Colossus' steel arm.

"Piotr!" she cried over the roar of rocket blasts and whirling winds. Colossus looked down at her. "Throw me!" she cried, pointing to herself, then skyward. "Up there!"

"What? Katya, are you certain?" Colossus was shaking his head.

"I can stop the robot! Just do it!"

Colossus bent, lacing his fingers together to make a sort of step for Shadowcat to stand upon. She put her feet into his large hands. If he wasn't encased in metal, Colossus would have been blushing furiously. "Go!" Shadowcat cried. Colossus heaved Shadowcat into the air. As soon as she was airborne, she made herself intangible. She flipped backwards in an arc over the Sentinel's head. She reached out her arms, phasing through the Sentinel's body. As she continued her fall, she saw that the Sentinel had jerked as if in surprise. The robot was malfunctioning as a result of Shadowcat's ability to disrupt anything mechanical. Shadowcat continued her plummet to the ground.

"I got you!" Wolverine cried.

Shadowcat almost wished she had hit the ground instead. It would have been softer.

The Sentinel spun in the air. The engine in one of its feet failed and it began to fall. They quickly realized that the robot was about to crash into the helicopter. Colossus and Guido ran towards the Sentinel. Together, they leapt for the robot's flailing limbs. The Sentinel landed with a crash, inches from the Velocity. The robot convulsed and the its head blew off. The remains of the robot's head dinged off the Velocity's side.

Wolverine unceremoniously dropped Shadowcat onto the ground and clamped his hands to his head. "Aw, no! The paint!"

* * *

"This method of transportation leaves something to be desired," Xavier said idly. 

"Seeing as how your X-Men absconded with the only two aircraft, I didn't see much of a choice," Magneto replied. The two men were soaring over the Indian Ocean inside a metal orb Magneto himself had crafted. The orb had elongated into a teardrop shape as their speed increased.

"I'm sure Cyclops had a good reason for departing without us," Xavier said.

"Yes. Flying off to play hero to his girlfriend, no doubt," Magneto responded.

"He is the leader of the X-Men for a reason," Xavier continued. "I trust his judgment."

"He's also nineteen years old."

"With more experience than a seasoned military operative," Xavier concluded.

"Well, at least they left a note," Magneto said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I am beginning to think that you're only upset because you might miss out on the action," Xavier said with a smile.

"Perhaps you should concentrate on finding the students, instead of complaining about the accommodations."

"Hmp," Xavier said, closing his eyes in concentration. "I've detected a large concentration of minds up ahead. A city, perhaps?"

"That's impossible," Magneto returned. He thinned the metal at the front of the orb until it became transparent. It rippled slightly in the passing winds. "There's nothing out here but ocean."

"Cerebro had indicated that there were several mutants out in this vicinity," Xavier continued. "But their location wasn't fixed. Maybe not a city...a large ship?"

"Or an island."

"Islands usually remain in one place."

"I was thinking about something along the lines of Asteroid M, Charles."

Xavier's brow furrowed. "This is very odd," he said.

Magneto waited for his friend to continue.

"While I am sensing hundreds of minds, they all seem to share the same thoughts. Or rather, they are seeking the same objective. I feel---ah!"

"Charles!" Magneto put a hand on Xavier's shoulder. Xavier sat hunched at the base of the orb, cradling his head in his hands. "What is it?"

"Terrible pain...and a name. Krakoa?" Xavier managed. "We're close now."

Magneto spotted the glimmer of green amongst the waves. He steered the orb forward in a gentle arc toward the land mass. They soared over the rocky cliffs surrounding the island. The trees swayed softly at their passing.

"I see smoke," Magneto said. "I'm going to come in low."

The orb ducked beneath the tree canopy and weaved through the trunks. The orb slowed, and the makeshift windscreen parted. As they flew closer to the signs of smoke and flame, they began to hear the sounds of a battle. Soon, they were able to see the edge of a compound through the trees. The orb, which now resembled something like a long silver canoe, came to a halt. The paved area beyond the trees was littered with debris and heavily cracked. The orb touched down, depositing the two men on the ground. The metal flowed across the ground like Mercury, reforming itself around Xavier's legs.

"What do you mean to do, Erik?" Xavier asked.

"Your wheelchair won't work here," Magneto replied. "Use your telepathy to make use of my powers, and allow yourself to walk."

"That's certainly very generous of you," Xavier said, surprised. "But to invade your mind to control your powers...?"

Magneto removed his helmet, which protected him from psychic attacks. "It's not an intrusion. It's an invitation."

"Thank you," Xavier said, touched by his friend's offer.

"Besides, it would take only a small amount of my power to help you," Magneto bragged, waving his hand dismissively.

Xavier smiled and stood. The two men walked cautiously from the tree line and out onto the cracked pavement. In the distance, they spied several low buildings. One crumbled as they watched. A pile of brush was burning enthusiastically. Several blasts of laser light criss-crossed through the air. The blasts were followed in short order by a flash of lightning.

"Storm is here," Xavier said.

Several figures broke away from the buildings and began running toward the trees. They scattered haphazardly. "And there is the fight," Magneto said, his expression eager.

"A moment to make contact with our students," Xavier said, concentrating. He immediately gasped, and would have fallen forward if Magneto had not caught him. "There's an enormous presence," he groaned. "Not many minds, but one large mind. I don't understand it."

The ground began to shake, and this time, both men nearly fell to the ground. Magneto raised himself and Xavier in a bubble of magnetic energy a few feet above the ground. He propelled them toward the source of the laser fire. They spied Storm, her white hair blowing back like a flag. She was trying to hold off a robot while the others fled. Magneto soon realized why the figures were scattering. The robots had divided the fleeing mutants into groups, to make them easier to pick off.

"Sentinels!" Magneto cried, his voice bordering on rage. From this distance, Magneto recognized the distinctive figure of Nightcrawler scampering over the ruins away from them. Two others followed; a girl with purple hair and a young man who resembled Pyro.

Xavier failed to hear Magneto. His mind was too occupied with trying to contact the huge presence nearby.

"_HURT!_" the hive mind cried. "_PAIN! STOP!_"

"I'll make short work of these," Magneto continued, oblivious to his friend's plight. Magneto raised a fist to crush one of the Sentinels...and nothing happened.

"Run away!" someone cried. Magneto looked to see Avalanche running past and into the forest. He was followed by two other figures, most notably Gambit. Magneto felt something akin to relief at the sight of his former charge, alive, if not well. The young mutants were stumbling over the broken ground, which canted from side to side like the floors of a funhouse.

"Gambit!" Magneto cried.

Gambit looked up and skidded down a slab of concrete as a laser strafed the ground behind him. Rogue appeared at the crest of the slab. She bent down, grabbed a chunk of concrete the size of a compact car, and hurled it at an encroaching Sentinel. The Sentinel deflected the flying chunk of rock with an energy bolt. The resulting debris rained down around them.

"I cannot stop it!" Magneto said, trying to get a grip on the robot.

"They're made of polymer," Gambit replied, gathering chunks of rock. He hurled charged projectiles at the Sentinel. Rogue was lifting another piece of concrete. As she strained, Magneto heard the squeal of metal breaking. He realized the concrete was laced through with steel reinforcement bars.

With a gesture, he yanked the rock from Rogue's grip. She looked up, alarmed at Magneto's sudden display of power. The bars twisted free of the concrete, straightened like javelins, and then launched themselves toward the Sentinel. A blue charge was building in the chest cavity of the robot. Before it could fire, several javelins speared the robot's chest. It jerked spasmodically and then exploded.

"Magneto!" Xavier suddenly gasped. "The metal!"

Magneto spared his friend a glance, finally recognizing that Xavier was in incredible pain. "Charles!? What about the metal? Tell me!"

Xavier groaned, unable to answer. The earth was heaving, as if to shake the irritating humans from its back. Rogue and Gambit were thrown from their feet.

Magneto turned to where Avalanche had fled into the forest. The young man was hanging onto a nearby tree. "Do something!" he ordered.

"I can't control it!" he cried. "The earth, it won't listen to me!" Magneto realized that Avalanche was not overreacting. The earth-shaking mutant's expression was one of terror.

"Look out!" Magneto heard Rogue cry.

Magneto turned to decipher Rogue's warning, and saw several charged rocks fly in his direction. He braced himself for the ensuing explosion, but the projectiles soared past and into the trees. The rocks detonated and he was sprayed with dirt and vegetation. Something struck him from behind and both he and Xavier fell from the sky. Claws scraped at Magneto's face. Several attackers fell upon him, beating him with rocks and sticks. He summoned his powers, struggling to grasp at the iron within his attackers' blood. But there was nothing, not the barest glimmer of metal within the bodies of his attackers. With an angry cry, he reached out and found what metal he could. The steel bars within the concrete nearby were within his grasp. He was rewarded with the cracking sounds of shattering mortar as the bars pulled themselves free.

"Magneto stop!" he heard Xavier cry in the distance.

Magneto failed to heed Xavier's warning. The metal was free, and it soared through the air under his command. In freeing the steel, he had freed the earth as well. The island, alive and sentient, was furious with hurt. Enraged at its long incarceration, the earth rose up and struck back.

* * *

"You killed him." Her voice was timid and fearful, but also wondering. As if she couldn't quite believe what she had seen.

Moxie stood slowly. Crimson hair became indigo. Pale fur raced over blue-skinned limbs. A tail elongated and swished through the air. Transformation complete, Moxie looked down. Bolivar Trask was laying on the floor, his head at an odd angle. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

"He was a loose end that needed tying," Moxie replied. She turned to look at Lorna, who was standing in the doorway. Moxie gestured to a nearby console. "Take care of the inhibitor controls."

"Wha-what should I do?"

"I don't care. Smash it if you have to." Moxie turned away from Lorna and righted a fallen monitor. She began typing at the keys with a practiced, confident hand.

Lorna approached the console, which was littered with various dials and readouts. She was still unsure of what she had just witnessed. For a moment, it had seemed as if Moxie had changed into someone else entirely. Lorna could never be certain of what she saw, especially when she was off her medication.

Moxie opened a line of communication and sent a transmission. She was quickly answered.

"Irene?" Moxie asked.

"Here," the answer came with a puff of air, as if the person on the other end of the line were waiting with bated breath.

"Have you finished transferring the files from the catalog?"

"I have," Irene answered. "You'd best hurry, you haven't much time."

"I thought you were certain of the outcome," Moxie said.

"With my visions, nothing is certain. Overconfidence will be your downfall."

Moxie paused, studying the speaker and pondering Irene's ominous words.

"I'll see you soon," Moxie said finally, before ending the transmission.

She flicked through the channels displayed on the numerous monitors. Several monitors remained black or reported a fuzzy, broken image. At last she found a functioning camera. The camera had a fish-eye lens which covered a wide aerial view. A few clouds scudded across the evening sky. The peaceful scene was suddenly shattered when a Sentinel dropped into view, trailing smoke and flame. The X-Jet soared across the screen, pursued by yet another Sentinel. The jet's weapons stabbed holes through the falling Sentinel while simultaneously avoiding enemy fire.

"Well, at least he can fly," Moxie admitted begrudgingly.

"What?" Lorna said, as she approached Moxie and the bank of monitors.

"Nothing," Moxie replied.

"Uhm, I think I got it to turn off," Lorna said. She was fiddling with a dial she had snapped from the console. "See?" she said, offering Moxie the knob.

"Yes, good work," Moxie said dismissively, without glancing at Lorna. Moxie flipped to another channel. This camera angle showed her a majority of the construction site. The image trembled and spluttered. She spotted three running figures: Betsy, Pyro and a blue-furred mutant with a slightly demonic appearance. The forth figure, a tall African woman, was holding a Sentinel at bay with bolts of lightning. The blue-furred mutant disappeared, only to reappear astride the robot. He jammed a metal spike into the Sentinel's eye, then teleported away. The robot's head burst in an impressive explosion. Apparently satisfied by what she saw, Moxie once again flipped to another channel. The next few screens showed nothing but static or open expanses of island shoreline. Moxie began passing through channels at a much faster pace.

"What are you looking for?" Lorna asked.

Moxie continued to switch through the security system monitors. She flipped past many channels displaying images of the tree line surrounding the compound. She nearly passed by the one she was looking for in her haste.

"Ah!" she said. "Magneto!"

Lorna leaned over Moxie's shoulder to peer closely at the monitor. "Really?" she asked, mystified. "I've heard of him." Lorna was transfixed at the sight of the self-proclaimed Master of Magnetism battling a Sentinel.

"Throwing his weight around as usual," Moxie said, impatiently. "What is that fool doing?"

Metal bars tore themselves from the pavement, effectively destroying the robot.

Moxie and Lorna watched as Magneto and Xavier were attacked by several creatures from the forest; the denizens, as the prisoners called them. Moxie's attention was immediately attracted by the sight of a young woman with a streak of white in her auburn hair. Moxie stared at the girl raptly for a moment. Then the camera began to shake violently. Both Moxie and Lorna were tossed against the console as the earth tremors reached them. The earthquake was perhaps the most powerful they had experienced yet.

"We have to get out of here," Moxie panted. She seized Lorna by the wrist and hauled her from the room. The two wobbled down the shaking halls, dodging falling bricks. Fluorescent light bulbs splashed onto the floor tiles. They jostled through the narrow door opening and out into open air. Nearby buildings swayed as if made of rubber. The rumble of earth drown out all other sound.

"Lorna!" Moxie shouted over the rumbling. "Go to the hangar and find the other prisoners. Then flag down the X-Jet!"  
Lorna's liquid green eyes were frantic. "But---but---!" she stammered. "I can't!"

Moxie slapped Lorna in the face, hard enough to gain the girl's attention, but not enough to hurt her. "Use your powers, stupid!" she snapped. She gave Lorna a shove in the general direction of the hangar. "Bring down the jet! Save the prisoners! Do it however you can!"

Moxie turned and ran, not bothering to wait and listen to Lorna dither. Her footsteps were surprisingly sure despite the trembling earth. She ran toward the line of trees, not entirely sure where she had seen Magneto or the girl with the stripe in her hair.

A horrifying sound reverberated over the earthquake. It was like the howl of a wounded animal, only echoed a thousand times over. It was joined by the shriek of tearing metal and cracking stone. The earth lurched powerfully, and this time, Moxie could not keep her footing. Instead of falling, however, her body seemed to explode into a thousand tiny pieces. A swarm of bees angrily milled together, forming a sinuous mass in the air. The bees regrouped, then flew along the deep gash that had formed along the center of the prison compound.

Thousands of multifaceted eyes searched the landscape, at last finding the familiar shape of the girl she sought. The bees swarmed, then came together to form a solid mass. Moxie was Moxie once again.

She had arrived just in time to see a giant slab of concrete tip like a teeter totter, taking with it two young mutants. The pair slid down the slab and disappeared into the gaping fissure in the ground. It was as if the earth had swallowed them whole. Moxie paused on the precipice, looking down into the dark pit. Then she raised her arms over her head, and dove gracefully into the murk below.


	19. Chemicals Collide

Chapter 17: Chemicals Collide

Chemicals Collide, Cloud Cult

_We were loving like a landslide_

_Or were we in a fight_

_These days it's hard to tell what's right from wrong and wrong from right_

_And oh god, it's beautiful_

_Insatiable_

_The way our chemicals collide_

Gambit and Rogue slid down the cement slab and plunged into darkness. Their fall was brief. They soon met the ground, which gave way with a soft splat. Gambit sat up, mud sucking at his limbs. The air was close and fetid, instantly triggering memories of the swamp in Gambit's mind.

"Rogue?" he called into the darkness. He could see nothing beyond the sliver of evening light issuing from the fissure high above.

"Ah'm here," Rogue responded. "Ah---Ah think Ah'm stuck."

"I'm comin'," Gambit called, he struggled to his feet, but fell to his hands and knees. The mud was hot, and smelled like sewage.

"Hey, who's there?" a slow, deep voice echoed out of the darkness.

Gambit searched the mud for something to charge and throw. His fingers found something smooth and cylindrical. From the mud, he produced a small vial, half-full of blood. He quickly dropped it.

"...Fred?" Rogue's voice called.

Another pause. "Rogue? Is that you?" A huge figure lumbered out of the darkness and into the fall of light. A soft gush of mud pushed aside at his tremendous bulk. It was Blob.

"Well, look," said another voice. "It's rainin' mutants!"

Toad leaped out of the darkness and landed on Blob's shoulder. The smaller boy was covered in mud. He looked impossibly happy. The two were shortly joined by a third figure.

"Jean!" Gambit cried, relieved.

Jean spotted Gambit in the dim light and sloshed forward as quickly as she could. She looked drawn and pale, her cropped hair hanging in bedraggled clumps along either side of her face. She was streaked with mud and greenish slime. Gambit finally managed to stand, his arms pulling free with a soft sucking noise. He realized that the mud was slowly rising. From the darkness came an unpleasant gurgling noise.

"What was that?" Gambit asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Sounded like Blob after his twelfth bean burrito," Toad said.

"Do you want to end up back in the tube?" Blob asked.

"We've got to get out of here," Jean said, her voice betrayed her panic.

"Somebody get me outta this goop!" Rogue cried from the darkness.

Jean and Gambit waded toward Rogue's voice. Jean abruptly drew up short, her expression terrified. Gambit continued to plunge ahead.

"Gambit! Stop!"

Gambit turned, his eyes glowing dimly in the darkness. "What is it?"

Jean was looking at something in the water. A strange putty-colored sludge was moving through the mud. Beyond it was Rogue, standing hip-deep in mud.

"What the heck is this stuff?" Rogue said, stupefied. She struggled to wade through it, but she remained steadfastly stuck. The sludge had completely surrounded her by now. Her expression changed suddenly, from mild disgust to panic. Then to pain. She began to scream.

Heedless of Jean's warning, Gambit threw himself forward. He realized quickly that this was a stupid mistake. He too was mired in the thick glop, but he had managed to reach Rogue. He couldn't understand why she was screaming, but she clawed at him as she struggled to escape.

"I have you!" Jean cried. The pair found themselves lifted by invisible hands. They cleared the putty-colored sludge. Clumps of it clung to their legs, and then dropped back into the mud in wet splats. Gambit thought he saw something peculiar moving through the sludge, as if it were trying to take shape. Horrified, he watched as a face formed in the muck. Rogue let out a sob and clung to Gambit. Jean used her powers to lower them to the ground beside Blob.

Both Jean and Gambit had to support Rogue from falling over. "Is she okay?" Gambit asked Jean. "What happened to her? What was that stuff?"

Jean shook her head, leaning down to peer into Rogue's face. "I'm not sure," she said, her voice ragged. "It's so hard to hear anything just now. The earth...it's screaming." Just then, the strange gurgling noise echoed through the tunnel. It was followed by a dull roar.

"I think something's comin' down the tunnel," Blob said, turning to face the interior of the cavern.

The thick mud began to move, taking with it the strange putty-colored sludge. The roar grew louder.

"What is it?" Jean asked, looking wildly about into the gloom.

"Sounds like a hurricane," Gambit said. "Or the ocean."

Jean opened her mouth to reply, but her voice was drown out by the rumbling. Something huge was coming down the tunnel. They had little chance to be truly frightened before a wall of frothing water caromed around the bend in the tunnel. The crest of the torrent crashed upon them, and the young mutants found themselves swept away.

* * *

"Krakoa is alive," Xavier said with forced calm.

Magneto had hold of Xavier's arm, and the pair hovered a safe distance above the thrashing earth. He was much too late to rescue Rogue and Gambit. The pair had vanished into the earth, swallowed whole. Avalanche was still below, having refused to relinquish his grip on the tree. He seemed to be unwilling to leave the ground, despite its thrashing.

"The island, it's native inhabitants, the soil, the trees...all of it is part of Krakoa's body."

Avalanche looked at the tree he was clinging to. He quickly released it. "Oh, gross!"

"How is that possible?" Magneto said, still staring down into the gaping maw below.

"Another type of mutant," Xavier replied. "Another mutation. This island is a person. A very abused and angry person."

Magneto shook his head slowly, uncomprehendingly.

"Charles!" called a voice from above. The two men looked up to see Storm soaring in their direction. She was followed by Nightcrawler, Pyro, and a young woman with purple hair.

"Storm, where are the others?" Xavier asked. "Cyclops, Wolverine---?"

Storm shook her head. "For the moment, we do not know."

"Where's Rogue?" Nightcrawler asked. "Where's my sister?"

Xavier opened his mouth, but then closed it, at a loss for words. Nightcrawler's golden eyes widened in panic. The surrounding trees began to bend under the force of winds from above. The roar of engines deafened them. It seemed at first that another Sentinel had arrived, however, it was the nose of the X-Jet that appeared over the trees. The engine was emitting strained sounds and the jet itself was hovering strangely in the air. The ramp on the jet's side opened, revealing a pair of young mutants inside.

"Anyone need a lift?" Quicksilver said with a smirk.

"Professor!" Cyclops called. "Is everyone all right? No one is hurt?"

"Who is flying the jet?" Magneto called back.

"That would be me," a young woman with curly green hair leaned down over the nose of the jet. "I, uhm, master magnetism."

Magneto stared at the young woman, unable to conceal his surprise.

"We've received a transmission from Wolverine," Cyclops said. "They're all okay, and they have Wanda and two other escapees with them. I've told them to evacuate who they could, and leave."

"Let's get the hell out of here," Quicksilver said.

"No!" Avalanche cried. "We have to find Todd and Freddy! They're still out here somewhere!"

"This island is not going to allow us to take our time leaving," Xavier said.

"Everyone, board the jet," Magneto ordered. "We'll sweep the island looking for survivors. We won't leave without a thorough search."

* * *

Water closed down around him, cutting off all sound save that of the rushing current. Gambit was spun about in the torrent, losing track of which way was up. One hand gripped Rogue's, her weight dragged on his shoulder. The current smashed them against the walls of the tunnel, and Rogue's hand twisted in his grip. He suddenly found himself holding nothing but her leather glove. He pressed his lips closed against the cry that threatened to escape and rob him of his remaining oxygen. He felt as if he'd been underwater for ages. His lungs were burning. He needed air. For a brief moment, he considered charging the water, disintegrating the hydrogen molecules, leaving nothing but pure oxygen. He wasn't sure if he had enough control to pull off such a feat. Starved for air, he struggled against the relentless current. He suddenly felt a slight pressure and found he was no longer twirling through the water. Gambit recognized the sensation as Jean's telekinesis, gripping him lightly as she steered him through the water. He was rising now, he could feel it. He broke the surface with a desperate gasp for air.

He immediately sank again, and he kicked his legs to keep his head above water. Coughing and gasping, he looked about frantically. There was a roar and suddenly Blob erupted from the water, causing a huge wave which cascaded over Gambit's head. Blob bounced on the waves on his back, like an enormous buoy. Toad was the next to spring from the water. He leapt onto Blob's huge gut. Jean rose gracefully, the top of her telekinesis bubble breaking the surface. She sank again, slowly, overwhelmed and exhausted. Blob grasped her by the back of her uniform and pulled her against him.

"Thanks, Fred," she said tiredly.

"Where's Rogue?" Gambit spun, searching the waves. They were surrounded by ocean. The island was several miles away.

"I couldn't find her," Jean said. "Either she's unconscious or---"

"Rogue!" Gambit called, cutting off the end of Jean's sentence. "Rogue!"

There was a sudden splash from nearby. Gambit startled, feeling the sudden jolt of panic that left an acrid taste in his mouth. A silvery fin had split the ocean waves nearby.

"Shark!" Toad cried.

Something large and torpedo-shaped shot out of the water and curved in a graceful arc over their heads. It returned to the water with a soft splash. Where the creature had been, a red-and-white head bobbed up. Rogue's arms flailed in the water as she gasped air. Gambit swam to her. He tried to avoid her thrashing arms, but she dunked him several times in her panic. Then she wrapped her arms and legs around him and they both sank like stones. Blob had paddled over and fished them from the waves.

After he had finished coughing up sea-water, Gambit finally said: "Don't look now chèrie, but I think you were just saved by a dolphin." In the waves, a smooth silvery shape surfaced. A bottle-nosed dolphin poked its head up and peered at them with human-like intelligence. It then quickly disappeared with a splash.

Jean stared after it, her jaw set, eyes angry.

Rogue shoved her sodden hair from her eyes. Makeup ran in streaks down her pallid face. "You're crazy, Cajun," she said.

"Thanks for the save, yo," Toad said, slapping Blob in the gut.

"How did you ever find the island?" Jean asked Blob.

"Well, we wouldn't have made it if Toad hadn't sent us that homing beacon," Blob replied.

"Homing beacon?" Toad asked. "I didn't send no homing beacon."

"Well, yeah you did. We saw you on Wanda's computer," Blob insisted.

"When have you _ever_ seen me use a computer? Ever?"

Blob remained silent, thinking hard. "But then, if _you_ didn't send it..."

"Are we just gonna bob here in the water until we get turned into shark food, or what?" Rogue said.

"I could try contacting someone on the island, telepathically," Jean offered.

They all looked back at the island, doubt etched on their faces.

"We could try this," Blob said, pulling something from the inside pocket of his vest. He raised his arm and fired a flare from the Very pistol in his hand. The flare soared into the deep evening sky, shining glimmering lights down upon the small group below.

They waited in silence, listening to the gentle lapping of ocean waves. In the distance, a low thrum could be heard. The sound soon resolved itself into the sound of rotor blades, chopping through the air. The dark shape of the Velocity appeared overhead, a bright white spotlight fell upon them. They all wearily waved up at the helicopter. Safe, at last.


	20. Dashboard

Chapter 18: Dashboard

Dashboard, Modest Mouse

_Well, it would've been, could've been worse than you would ever know._

_Oh, the dashboard melted, but we still have the radio._

_Oh, it should've been, could've been worse than you would ever know._

_Well, you told me about nowhere, well it sounds like someplace I'd like to go._

_Why should we ever even ever really even get to know?_

_Oh if the world don't like us it'll shake us just like we were a cold_

_Now here we go!_

_Well, it would've been, could've been worse than you would ever know._

It was rather close quarters inside the Velocity's cabin. Wolverine was manning the controls, Shadowcat at his side in the cockpit. Colossus stood just behind Shadowcat, his hand on the back of her chair. Jean was relieved to see the X-Men accompanied by her former Squad Three members, Guido and Joanna. To Jean's surprise, the Scarlet Witch was also aboard. Toad leapt upon her joyously, must to her disgust. Surprisingly, she didn't immediately shove him away. The Scarlet Witch was responsible for allowing the helicopter to fly despite the damage to the tail section. Guido and Joanna were no lightweights, and their bulk combined with Blob's made remaining airborne a dodgy thing.

Besides the cramped accommodations, there was also the smell. Jean couldn't fully put the blame on Toad. Not even he smelled that bad on his best day. Jean tried to ignore the other passengers' thoughts and their wrinkled noses when they looked in her direction. She'd just been, for lack of a better word, _crapped _out of living, sentient island suffering from IBS. Did they expect her to smell like a bed of roses?

At least she wasn't alone. She and Gambit were sitting back to back on the floor of the helicopter. Rogue was nearby, huddled in an emergency blanket. She looked a little ill, but it was hard to tell if it was the lights or her ruined makeup that gave her such a ghastly appearance. Jean suspected Rogue was suffering some sort of inner turmoil, but when she checked her teammate's mind, Jean found nothing out of the ordinary. Well, nothing out of the ordinary for Rogue anyway. Jean wondered what result of coming in contact with that putty-colored goop would have on Rogue.

The radio in the cockpit squawked. Logan picked up the headset. "Cyclops," he called. "You there?"

"Wolverine!" Cyclops responded immediately. "Thank god, where are you!?"

"On the south end of the island, about a mile offshore."

"Good. Keep back from the island. Something is going on down there...whoa! Hey!"

"Cyke!?"

"The island's sinking!" Cyclops cried.

The passengers rushed to the windows. Even from this distance, they could hear the roar of the island. The ocean frothed and roiled around the shore. For a moment, the island looked as if it had stood up. The earth rose to a peak at its center. The remains of anything man-made tumbled from the mountain, crashing down into the sea. There were several explosions, and debris flew out in all directions. The Velocity dove as a piece of metal, perhaps the remains of a wheelbarrow, flew in their direction. Then with a low moan, the island seemed to slowly fall forward. Huge waves crashed as the island sank. They all watched in silence as the island disappeared beneath the ocean waves. Huge bubbles broke the ocean's surface, but then those disappeared as well.

"Holy crow," Rogue said.

"Cyclops," Wolverine said. "We've got the rest of the team here."

Cyclops was silent for a long moment. Jean could imagine him staring dumbstruck at the place where the island had just been, his thoughts scattered. "Wh-what?" he finally managed.

"All the X-Men are accounted for," Wolverine replied gruffly.

"And Jean?"

"And Jean," Jean replied. "Hi Scott."

She could feel Scott's relief through their psychic link. It was like slipping into a warm bath after a harrowing escapade in the Danger Room.

"We've got some of the Brotherhood here, as well. Most of 'em, looks like."

There was some squabbling over the controls to the radio after that. The Brotherhood members fought for control, shouting back and forth over the line. On the X-Jet side, Nightcrawler finally wrested the radio from Avalanche and Quicksilver. The two were still arguing about who was in charge.

Nightcrawler's voice finally broke through the raucous sounds of the two fighting boys. "We're heading straight for the nearest airport," he said. "This flight is booked solid! Also, we've picked up some of the mutant guards and have them locked in the back compartment."

"Is Moxie there?" Guido asked quietly. He nudged Joanna and gestured at Wolverine. "Ask him to ask if Moxie's there."

"You ask!"

"Moxie's gone," Jean replied flatly.

"Dead?" Guido squeaked.

"No," Jean shook her head. "Moxie wasn't who she claimed to be."

"Who's Moxie?" Rogue asked.

"That's what I'd like to know," Jean replied. "Though I have my suspicions."

The other passengers looked at her, waiting for the redhead to continue. "When I tried to contact her telepathically, I couldn't sense her mind. She certainly seemed to know a lot more about what was going on than the rest of us."

"So, who do we know who can mask her thoughts?" Wolverine asked rhetorically.

Rogue straightened abruptly. "Not Mystique!"

"What was she doin' there?" Gambit asked. "Why'd she stick her neck out?"

"She's bound to have her reasons," Jean replied.

Rogue crossed her arms protectively around herself and glowered. "Who knows why Mystique does anything."


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue

Beams of late September sunlight shown down through fall foliage. The golden light danced on the grass. A playful wind sent a wayward Frisbee off course. Remy caught it effortlessly, then sent it spinning back to the players in the quad. Many of the University students were outside, enjoying the last of the good weather before the inevitable Fall rains. Clusters of students were scattered on the gently sloping lawn. A group of art students balanced large newsprint tablets on their laps, drawing the stately University buildings and surrounding landscape. Another group played a game of touch football. On his way across the quad, Remy passed three pretty sorority sisters, each wearing identical sweaters with Greek letters stitched to the front. He turned to admire them from behind, walking backwards as he did so. The three girls glanced over their shoulders and giggled.

When Remy turned again, he caught a glimpse of fiery red hair just behind one of the large oak trees. He walked a little faster, his bookbag decorated with little buttons banged against his hip. He was grinning a particularly obnoxious grin by the time he'd reached Jean's side. She was leaning back against the tree trunk, gnawing on the nail of her pinkie finger. In her lap was one of those ubiquitous blue-covered notebooks used for University exams.

"Hot off the presses," Remy called, and dropped one of the two newspapers he carried into her lap.

Jean glowered up at him.

"Still upset about that B, hunh?" he smirked. "Oh, the end is nigh! Jean Grey's gotta B on her test!"

"B-plus," she snapped. "Go ahead and mock me. You might not take this class seriously, but I want to be a psychologist. And I can't even get an A in Psych one-oh-one."

Remy shrugged and looked skyward. "There's plenty o' time t'make it up."

"What did you get on the exam?" Jean asked, feigning disinterest.

Remy flopped into grass, sticking his narrow rear end into a space between the tree's roots. He shook out his newspaper and hid behind it. Jean sat up straight, recognizing her own face on the front page of the newspaper.

She made a disgusted sound and grabbed the newspaper Remy had dropped in her lap. She held it up in front of her, looking at the headline of the school newspaper, _The_ _Bayville Beacon_: "Local Teen Unjustly Imprisoned."

"'One girl's journey into a personal Heart of Darkness...'" Remy read dramatically.

Jean reached out and crumpled Remy's newspaper as he exploded into laughter.

"You wouldn't be laughing if that was you on the front page!" Jean snarled.

Remy pulled a horrible face and strangled out: "_The horror_..._the horror_...!"

Jean rolled up her newspaper and began to beat him with it.

"_Mais_, this is funny!" He pulled the newspaper free from Jean's grasp. "'Jean Grey, a long-time Bayville resident and University honors student'---ha! I guess they didn't find out about the B yet!"

"Oh, you're so annoying! I don't know how Rogue can tolerate you for a single moment!"

"She tolerated me pretty good last night," Remy said lowly, his eyes danced mischievously.

"Incorrigible!" Jean cried. Her voice echoed out across the quad. Several people turned to look in their direction.

"Oh, c'mon Jean! You're famous! I mean, who else gets front page of th'newspaper _and_ gets elected Keg Queen in th'same week? What would Kappa Tappa Kegga do wit'out you?"

"That is not a real fraternity, Remy," Jean said in a deadpan tone.

"Keg Queen! Keg Queen!" Remy chanted, fist in the air.

Jean deliberately held the newspaper up in front of her face. She continued to read the front page article with growing embarrassment.

_Local Teen Unjustly Imprisoned_

_One girl's journey into a personal Heart of Darkness_

_By Trish Tilby_

_Two weeks have passed since nearly thirty mutants mysteriously appeared on the Mall in Washington, D.C. The mutants, ranging between the ages of fourteen and twenty-five, were noticed in the early morning by D.C. authorities. The mutants claimed to have been held captive on a remote island somewhere in the Indian Ocean. Fearing the young mutants' public demonstration would soon turn into a full-scale riot of anti-mutant prejudice, police detained the mutants for several hours at the D.C. Police Department._

_One of the former captives, Jean Grey, became the spokesperson for the mutant group. Grey, age 19, is a long-time Bayville resident and University honors student. Before the press, Grey detailed her harrowing experience of abduction and imprisonment. After being taken to the island, she and the other mutant captives were allegedly forced to work in labor camps._

_Many dismissed the claim as a political stunt aimed at drawing attention to what some feel as unconstitutional anti-mutant clause in the USAPATRIOT Act. However, it was discovered that several photographs of the camp were leaked to the Internet by an unknown source within the prison. Four mutants remain in custody, and have reportedly identified themselves as guards for the mutant prison._

_Several days after the incident, the body of Bolivar Trask, former head of the defunct Sentinel Project, was found on the African shoreline. Authorities report the body was found alongside a number of robotics components. Trask had collaborated with the U.S. Government in efforts to eliminate Apocalypse; the dangerously powerful mutant was considered a global threat. Government officials are denying any involvement in Trask's projects since Apocalypse, and were unaware of his most recent whereabouts. The Commission on Superhuman Activities, a branch of the Department of Defense created by the USAPATRIOT Act, has issued a press release denying Grey's allegations of kidnapping, assault, and detainment. Former CSA liaison, Henry Peter Gyrich, was unavailable for comment. Gyrich was recently reassigned as liaison to Wakanda, Africa._

_Jean Grey described her experience as "dehumanizing."_

_"We were robbed of our individuality and pitted against one another," Grey told reporters. "It was terrifying."_

Jean didn't want to read any more. She all ready knew what she'd told the reporters. Jean didn't want to be the one to put on a brave face and stand in front of reporters and their microphones. But Xavier had insisted it be done, and she was the right person to do it. Jean was growing weary of her role as mutant goodwill ambassador. Hers was the face that was presented to the new recruits. She was the one who acted as role model. Frankly, she was sick of being Miss Nice-Mutant. Now that it was over, she hoped to never think about what happened on Krakoa ever again. It was bad enough she dreamt about it every night. Bodies floating in green liquid, hot mud pouring into her nose and mouth, and always the horrid pale face of Milbury, grinning at her.

Jean probably couldn't have swayed public opinion in her favor alone. She was all ready publicly known, having fought against Apocalypse and his Horsemen in front of international news crews. But Guido Carosella's tiny grandmother took the bus down from Brooklyn, New York to Washington D.C. and showed up on the front steps of the police department demanding to see her grandson. The news stations were fascinated with the small Italian immigrant grandmother and her gargantuan but gentle grandson.

Then the British government discovered that one of their citizens, Betsy Braddock, had been detained, _allegedly_, by the U.S. Government. It was an international public relations disaster. When the investigations continued, it was revealed that Lorna Dane had been removed from a Southern California psychiatric hospital. This discovery led to the medical community uproariously decrying the imprisonment and mistreatment of those suffering from mental disorders.

Guido had gone home with his grandmother. Betsy was deported, or rather, returned home to the UK, despite her protests. And Lorna was put back on her medication and readmitted to the hospital. The rest of the mutants were released, as the authorities could find no criminal record on any of them. Not even St. John Allerdyce, who had in fact, set a warehouse on fire. Magneto had benevolently erased any record of their arrest. He hadn't won any favor with Remy however, who was giving both Magneto and Xavier the cold shoulder for the last two weeks. Both Remy and Jean had been welcomed back to Bayville University. The president himself had publicly apologized for what he called a: "Regrettable incident involving the Spirit Rock." Jean was looking forward to things getting back to normal. As far as normal went in Bayville.

Remy was riffling through his backpack, shoving the folded newspaper inside. Jean yanked it from his grip and crumpled it with her copy of the paper.

"Hey!" he cried. "And I was gonna have you sign my copy."

"Fat chance," Jean snapped. She had spilled several papers and Remy's psychology book from his bag when she'd grabbed the newspaper. The book was laying open in the grass. The margins of the pages were covered with notes, the text heavily highlighted. Remy snapped the book shut and shoved it into his bag.

"Really, Remy," Jean said. "The professor gave you enough money to buy new books. I don't know how you can manage with those used texts. Look, the spine's falling off!"

"I'll stick with the used, thank you very much. B'sides, the answers are in them all ready."

"Yes, that's generally where you find answers. Books. Glad you finally managed to learn something."

She picked up his fallen notebooks. A blue exam book fell out of the clutch of papers she was holding. They both dove for it at the same time. She wrestled it from his grip.

"Gimme back that book, Jean," Remy said dangerously.

"In a minute," she replied coolly. She had to hold him at bay with her telekinesis while she opened up the book and flipped to the back. She stared at the grade in growing horror.

"_YOU GOT AN A_!?"

"A-_plus, _Know-It-All. So, wanna borrow my notes?"

* * *

Author's Notes:

First, I'd like to thank my beta, Neko, for proof-reading this and making sure it all made sense. Without her, this probably would have never been "published."

Hope you enjoyed my story. For those of your who are more familiar with the show than the X-Books, I will clarify a few things. For those of you who are fans of the books, you might've noticed mention of things familiar to X-Men canon.

Krakoa, the "Island that walked like a man," was featured famously in Giant Sized X-Men #1. Krakoa was a living island that devoured mutants. The original X-team was held captive there, prompting Xavier to form a new team comprising new X-Men such as Wolverine and Storm. Polaris was mostly responsible for the ultimate defeat of the island.

Milbury's Genosha project was named for the island of Genosha, located in the Indian Ocean. In the X-Books, mutants/mutates were used as slaves to hold up Genosha's successful economy.

Doctor Milbury, of course, is referencing one of Mister Sinister's numerous aliases. His real name is Nathaniel Essex, but has also gone by Nathan Milbury. In the books, Milbury is the name of his deceased wife's estate. Here Essex uses the name of the school he graduated from, Milbury University.

Destiny (Irene Adler), as well as Sinister, Amanda Mueller, Kurt Marko and Alexander Ryking were all involved in a research project called The Black Womb. The intent of the project was to study mutant children. Toad was originally one of the Black Womb children. Destiny served as archivist on the project.

Doctor Valerie Cooper (briefly mentioned in Chapter: "Because America Can") works for the Commission on Superhuman Affairs. She's most notable for her work as mutant liaison in the United States government. She was also responsible for holding the remaining 198 mutants captive at the Xavier Institute after the events of M-Day...for their own protection of course. Gyrich was the government liaison for the Avengers before working with the CSA. He was most closely affiliated with the Black Panther, who rules Wakanda.

Carl Denti became the X-cutioner after his partner, Fred Duncan was killed. So, in my mind, Duncan was doomed from the start. :-)

Betsy Braddock is Psylocke, of X-Men fame. Guido Carosella is Strong Guy from X-Factor. Lorna Dane is Polaris. And Joanna Cargill is Frenzy, one of Magneto's former Acolytes in the books.

Moxie is my nod to the character Foxx, an alias established by Mystique to infiltrate the X-Men. Moxie is about a million times cooler than Foxx, though, who was completely lame.

Sugar Bombs are the drug---er, breakfast of choice for the former members of Generation X. Chris Bachalo, artist for the book in the early days, snuck Sugar Bombs into his drawings.

On a personal note, our University has a Spirit Rock, which was defiled last year after the Black United Students had decorated it. There weren't any riots on campus though, and the three boys who had written the racist message apologized.


End file.
